My Fair Rose
by A Who Down in Whoville
Summary: Part of my Movie!Verse. John Smith Ten owns a unique book shop in Notting Hill. Rose Tyler is a successful stage actress. What happens when they start a family before they ever give themselves a chance to fall in love? AU retelling of Notting Hill and Fools Rush In. Many WhoVerse characters will appear including Donna, Jack, Mickey, Sarah Jane, Wilf and Harold Saxon.
1. Chapter 1

**My Fair Rose  
Chapter 1**

**Author's Note: **The sensitive topic of abortion will be discussed in a later chapter, but it will not be dwelled upon. I will give fair warning.

* * *

How had it come to this? Hiding from a bulldog of a paparazzo in the back of a dusty, cluttered book shop? Wearing a Seattle Mariners baseball cap (she never did get the hang of that game) to hide the fact that her roots were in desperate need of a touch up? (The redtops had certainly find that scandalous.)

_"Rose Tyler broke! Has blown through her fortune on clothes and spa visits! Can't afford to get her hair done!"_

_"Former pop princess turned West End ingenue about to be replaced! So depressed, can't leave her flat to have hair done!"_

_"West End Rose throws tantrum, threatens to quit wildly successful My Fair Lady unless old flame Boy Toy singer Jimmy Stone hired in role of Freddy. Refuses to bleach her hair until producer relents!"_

Rose Tyler wearily sank to the floor and slumped against a bookcase, legs stretched out in resignation. The shelves pressed painfully into her back and neck as she contemplated the surreal turn her life had taken.

It had all started when Rose was thirteen. Jackie Tyler had entered a drawing at Henrik's, and won: a trip for two to Disneyland. Six months later, Rose Tyler was standing in a queue in Tomorrowland to sign up for a singing contest. She had always been told she was talented, so she figured, why not? What she didn't know was that the contest had been staged by Disney talent scouts to find a cast for a new television show aimed at tweens: _Superstar High_, where everyone was pretty, talented, hysterically funny, never awkward, had a wardrobe that would make Paris Hilton salivate, and broke out into song and dance at dramatically appropriate times.

Apparently the talent scouts loved her, because she was cast in the role of Lauren Crumbcakes, wealthy, snobby and affected British exchange student. She went back home with a recording contract in hand, a bubblegum-sweet pop hit climbing both the American and British charts, instructions for her mother to find a manager, and a report-to-the-studio-no-later-than date.

During filming hiatus Rose and her mother would return to London and the Powell Estate. Jackie was adamant that Rose not develop 'airs and graces' and refused to let Rose fund a more expensive flat for the two of them. Rose did stay relatively anonymous and thoroughly grounded, even though her fame was steadily on the rise during those four years.

During the fourth year filming the show, Jackie Tyler met a British expatriate and widower by the name of Pete Tyler in the hallway outside of the soundstage where Rose was filming. Rose and her mother had marveled about the irony that the man shared a striking resemblance to Jackie's deceased husband, not to mention the shared surname. As if destined, Pete and Jackie married within a month. Within the year, Jackie was expecting Rose's half brother, who they named Tony.

After Rose's successful run on the show - Lauren Crumbcakes graduated, returned to London a humbled and changed-for-the-better - she decided to stay on in Los Angeles. She was already living in the Tyler mansion. (Like any good made-in-America love story, Pete was not only loaded, but generous and a truly wonderful stepfather.) However, after working since the age of thirteen, Rose began to feel stifled and bored, simply sitting by the side of the infinity edge swimming pool that overlooked the Malibu beach. She had made friends with the other stars on the show, but most had decided to go to college, or moved on to new projects. Like all of the other teen actors, Rose had been tutored on-set, but she had never considered college, and her course of study was under the auspices of her home country, and she had not completed her A Levels.

Pete, who was in the entertainment industry, suggested that Rose try stage acting. "Rosie, I'm funding a new touring production of _My Fair Lady._ It's going to be here for about a year, and then hit the main theatres all around the US and Canada. It could be a great career booster."

Rose voiced her concern that she would be hired simply because she was Pete's step-daughter, but he assured her that would not be a problem, as his investment had been funneled through his shadow venture capital firm, Torchwood, LLC.

So audition she did, and she properly screamed when she heard the news she was hired into the chorus. There were four costume changes, no lines, and no direct interaction with the principals on stage, but there was also plenty of experience and she quickly learned the ropes. Within four months, she had been given a small speaking role, one Henry Higgins's maids; though she still had four costume changes and was singing in the chorus. Four months after that, she was the understudy to the lead, playing Eliza on the star's night off once every two weeks and very occasionally if she was ill, which was rare.

The show hit the road one year after she started, just as Pete had promised. The headliner decided she wanted to try her hand at Broadway and Rose was flung into the lead of Eliza Doolittle, debuting in Seattle at the Fifth Avenue Theater. She was given fantastic reviews by the local press. She was getting noticed...and not just by entertainment writers. She was pretty, sweet and innocent, and of course, was swept off of her feet by the first handsome actor to come along and gave her the time of day.

His name was James Stone. His seduction skills were as velvet-smooth as his voice, and Rose was quickly seduced...

Her foolish fling lasted less than two months, and ended when they were in Chicago for a twenty day engagement. Rose was distracted and moody. Trisha Delaney, her dresser and fellow Brit, noticed a fading bruise on Rose's cheek that Rose had attempted to cover up with makeup. She had tried to give Trisha the excuse that she had stumbled into a door the night before. "Yeah, and I'm the Queen Mum! Jimmy did that didn't he? The wanker! You tell him to sod off, love. He's no good!"

Rose didn't report Jimmy, but Trisha did. He was gone within twenty-four hours, and Michael Smith, his understudy, assumed the role of the would-be suitor, most famous for the song, _On the Street Where You Live_. Mickey and Rose had been good friends since her Los Angeles days. He was kind, fun, and thoroughly safe. He was a piece of home, too, having grown up in a neighborhood very close to her own. They talked about football and their favorite London haunts over shared baskets of chips. They even found out they had common friends. They dated casually, but never took things farther than a bit of snogging. To Rose, he was just...Micks, her best mate, but to Mickey, Rose was his world.

And then something happened she never dreamed would have come her way. She was approached to star in a bold new West End production of _My Fair Lady._ While the staging would be modern, the book and lyrics were unchanged. Several other stars were hired on as well, including Mickey reprising his role as Freddy. They left the touring show and returned to London.

At the recommendation of show producer, Henry Van Statten, Rose hired a new manager by the name of Harold Saxon. He was a visionary, and a master of promotion. He promised to make her rich and famous, and so far, he had made good on his promises. She was famous alright; her face stared back at her from posters and bus adverts; even her moderately embarrassing old bubblegum pop songs were getting airplay once again. And then there was the new phenomenon: paparazzi.

There was one photographer in particular who had decided that Rose Tyler was his personal project: Toc LaFan. He was crafty, cold as steel and wielded his camera like a weapon. He was everywhere she was. Sometimes Rose felt like she had a homing beacon implanted under her skin. According to her manager, LaFan was crafty enough to stay just inside of the law, and even though his actions scared Rose, any request for a police involvement would most certainly be turned down. No line had been crossed. Yet. But Rose was worried, and she told her manager so, often. It was like the man was two steps ahead of her...was everywhere she turned. What if his motivation wasn't greed? What he if was really and truly obsessed with her? What if-

"Can I help you?" a pleasant, male voice called around the corner of the bookcase, pulling her up and out of her downward spiral of worry.

"'M fine, thanks, just browsin'," she answered warily, pulling the bill of the cap further down to shield her face as she stood up. Turning to directly face the bookcase, Rose pretended to be engrossed in her hunt for a specific title. She pulled a book off of the shelf and hugged it to her chest like a treasure.

"Are you looking for something in particular within the Sexual Anthropology section?"

The young woman blushed and looked down at the title, then at the man for the first time. The lovely Estuary voice belonged to a tall, slender man in his mid to late thirties with soulful brown eyes and really great hair.

"Are you an anthropology student then?" he asked her. "That's a rather obscure, scholarly work."

She looked down and read the title. "_Sexual Selection and the Origins of Human Mating Systems_. Uh...well...no...I'm not a student. Like I said just browsin'..."

"In the Sexual Anthropology section..." he repeated with a wry smile. "Don't really get too many customers back here."

Rose heard the tinkling of the bell on the door, indicating someone had entered the shop. She whirled around, visibly shaking, looking for someplace to hide.

"Are you sure you're alright, you seem to be upset."

"Sorry, I...someone is following me, and I ducked in here to throw 'im off. Oh no..." she said, slightly panicked, "That's 'im," she said, looking over his brown pinstriped shoulder.

"Quick, get in here." The handsome man opened a narrow door and pushed her inside a storage cupboard, closing it quickly behind.

A shady-looking man ambled through the shop. He had a bulge under his leather jacket, which immediately caught the shopkeep's eye. The clerk boldly approached the man. "Can I help you find something in particular? We just got several new titles-"

"Uh, naw...just looking." The man's shifty eyes scanned beyond the tall man, and he pushed the proprietor aside. "As a matter of fact, I _am_ looking for something...well, someone." The man pasted on a small smile. "My...girlfriend. I'm wondering if you saw her come in?" The man produced a glossy photograph of a beautiful blonde woman.

The shopkeep didn't know that he had ever seen a smile so bright. It was obvious that a professional photographer had taken the photo. It was the sort that an actress or model might use to promote herself.

"This is your girlfriend?" asked the shop keep, incredulous. "Is she a model or an actress?"

"Uh, yeah, something like that. Don't know what she sees in me. I'm a lucky bloke, ain't I?"

Much to the both men's surprise, Rose came out of hiding. "I ain't your girlfriend, LaFan! Now stay away from me, or one way or another, I'm gonna get ya arrested if I have to give myself a black eye an' accuse ya of assault!"

"Good luck with that Rosie. Mind if I snap your picture while your face is still pretty?" The man revealed the bulge under his heavy black leather coat to be an expensive digital camera. The automatic shutter fired repeatedly.

"Only one person calls me Rosie, and you ain't him!" she hissed. Instinctively, Rose reached for the handsome shop keeper's hand.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave my shop or I will be calling the police," the owner of the shop demanded as he squeezed the pretty young woman's hand in reassurance.

"New bloke, eh?" The photographer ignored the shop's proprietor and aimed his camera at their clasped hands. "Is he good in the sack?" LeFan asked with a dirty grin. "Inquiring minds want to know."

At that, Rose lunged at the paparazzo's camera, but the brown-suited man pulled her back before _she_ ended up being charged with assault.

"I'll take that as a confirmation of your relationship. What's your name, pretty boy?" he shouted as he backed up, shutter continuing to fire. "Don't bother answering. It's right here on the wall. Hmm. Dr. John Smith. Impressive Rosie. Aiming for the stars, are you?" He snapped another series of photos of a framed newspaper article announcing the opening of the specialty book shop two years prior.

"I...said...leave!" John Smith's voice was low, commanding, and authoritative.

Something about the way he commanded Toc LaFan to get out made Rose Tyler glad to be on this side of his anger, and man immediately knew that it was time to leave. He fled the shop, slamming the door behind him, the bell jingling extra loudly in his wake.

Rose muttered an expletive and stomped her foot petulantly. "I'm so sorry you've been dragged into this. I don't even know your name."

"Uh, it's John. I own this shop." John shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "What was that all about?" He looked out the front window.

"Paparazzi. I'm getting used to it, unfortunately."

He looked at her like she had just dribbled on her shirt. "What do you mean, you're used to it? You're used to being stalked by scary photographers? Don't only famous people have a problem with those? So that would mean you're famous... Or royalty." He paused. "No, that's not right, you don't sound like a Windsor. You're from London. Southeast side. Oh! I know! Maybe you're one of those European princesses who just travels around...and you're faking your cockney accent! Oh! You're brilliant!

But wait, that's not right either. Think think think. I asked that man if you were an actress or a model... He said... or...or...something..." John rambled as he worked through his thoughts.

Rose grabbed the bill of her cap, and a cascade of long, messy, wavy hair tumbled down onto her shoulders. She was tired of hiding today, tired of putting up the facade. If this man, John, sold the story, so be it. She was already going to have to call Harry to tell him about this latest run-in with LaFan. He'd craft an appropriate reply denying it all.

"Well...?" Rose prompted, stared at the brown-eyed man expectantly waiting for the inevitable _You're Rose Tyler! _but it never came.

"Well...what?" he asked with a grin, pushing his black-rimmed spectacles up his nose.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?" she asked, slightly amused.

"No. Should I?" He frowned, and then a look of disdain came over his face. "Hold on, did _she_ send you? Because I thought I made it perfectly clear to that other disagreeable man that she sent last month! There simply isn't any profit to split! She is trying to get water out of a turnip, or bleed a stone, or however that saying goes." He angrily pushed his hands through his hair. "The money is gone! It's all gone. She took it all. There is nothing left to-"

"What? I'm not..." She paused, shook her head and calmed her voice. "Listen, whoever this woman is who wants your money, I'm not her, and I don't represent her. You saw that man comin' after me! I was tryin' ta hide," she said angrily, pointing out the door.

"Sorry. I'm a bit...paranoid. My wife...ex-wife...ran off with a Daniel Craig lookalike a year ago, and she is still trying to bleed me dry. My sister says I'm full of blood, anger and revenge."

"Not bitter at all, then?" she smirked, and glanced out the front window. "I can prove I'm not some...bill collector or whatever. Go on, look, right there, out the window!" She pointed at a double decker bus which was parked at the bus stop just outside of the shop, and then cocked her hip.

Submerged in a bounteous bed of flowers was the twelve foot long image of the woman standing in front of John Smith on the side of a bus. She wore a jubilant smile, and nothing else. The interesting parts of her anatomy were covered by strategically placed blooms.

"_My Fair Lady_..." he read, looking out the window, and then looked back at Rose with a cheeky grin. "I don't remember any nakedness in _My Fair Lady. _Puts an interesting spin on _I Could Have Danced All Night,_ now doesn't it," he said with a flirtatious grin, and an eyebrow waggle.

The young woman quickly lost her anger. She grinned and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Not to mention _How kind of you to let me come_."

John Smith's eyes shot open and his fair, freckled skin positively glowed as he blushed at her naughty joke. Rose giggled, and the handsome man relaxed and joined in.

"Yeah, well those bus adverts weren't my idea. Harry Saxon, he's my manager, Harry said it fit with the modern staging. But I don't get naked up on stage, or anything!" she added in a rush. "The story is the same, just the costumes and sets are modern. It's set in 1965. Has a swinging sixties vibe." Her tongue peeked cheekily from between her teeth. "He's working on a movie deal, too."

"Well I'd say that was false advertising, then, if there's no nakedness," he teased. "I'm Dr. John Smith, owner of this shop."

"Thanks for rescuing me, Doctor."

"Oh, it was nothing, really."

"So, doctor of what?" she asked.

"PhDs in geography and astronomy. I was a professor before _this_ happened." He sloppily motioned his hand, gesturing around the room and smirked. "My ex got all the money and the BMW, and I got the shop and the mortgage."

"So this ex...is shethe _she_ you thought sent me to strong arm money outta ya?"

"Yep. And I wouldn't put it past her to send a beautiful girl like...a beautiful girl to try and charm it out of me, either. You sure you don't moonlight for Renee Fisher?"

Rose held up her hand as a pledge. "I promise. I am not here for any money. I only came in here to hide from that _git_." She crossed her arms and huffed.

"Well we have a problem then." John clasped his hands behind his back, rocked on his trainer-clad heels and looked sternly at the petite blonde.

"Whastha'?" she asked with a grin.

"You are guilty of loitering, Miss Tyler. I'm afraid you are going to have to buy something if you plan on spending any more time in my shop."

* * *

Thanks to my lovely betas, scifigeekgirl, onabearskinrug and timelord1. Special thanks to whome.

Remember, dear readers, this is AU. There will be no aliens, just people with human problems and challenges.


	2. Chapter 2

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 2**

_"Well we have a problem then." John clasped his hands behind his back, rocked on his trainer-clad heels and looked sternly at the petite blonde._

_"Whastha'?" she asked with a grin._

_"You are guilty of loitering, Miss Tyler. I'm afraid you are going to have to buy something if you plan on spending any more time in my shop."_

"Is that so? Hmmm. Let's see. What else do we have in this section?" Rose pulled a book off of the shelf without looking. "Oooo, naughty!" Rose waved the provocative book and started thumbing through the pages.

John grabbed the book from her hand to look at the title.

"Hey! I was gonna buy that!" she protested mildly.

He opened his mouth to offer a flirtatious retort when the bell on the front door clanged and an attractive woman with fiery hair blew in.

"John, I brought you some curry. Eat up skinny boy. Oh. My. Gawd! You're Rose Tyler! John, did you know you are talking to Rose Tyler? The Rose Tyler? Teenage pop sensation, American television star, musical theatre actor, and now West End supermegastar!"

"Hi Donna," John greeted calmly.

Rose shuffled her feet nervously and looked down, obviously embarrassed by the woman's adulation and knowledge of her career.

"You don't know who she is, do you?" Donna asked, properly offended by his lack of pop culture knowledge.

"Nope," he said with a smile that could possibly be read as proud of that fact.

"You are such a spaceman! Everyone knows who Rose Tyler is! Even hermits like you!" Donna turned to Rose. "Hi...I'm Donna Noble." The woman was beaming. "What brings you into John's _unusual_ shop?"

Rose looked around, appraising the place. "Your bookshop is brilliant for a shop that sells..." Rose giggled, trying to grab the book from John's hand "...naughty books."

"Oi! I don't sell naughty books! Flat Earth Books sells books about exploring! Books about other cultures, and civilizations, both ancient and modern. Books about...life, the universe and everything!"

"He's hopeless, really he is. He actually believes in aliens, too. Imagine that! And he reads the news! The...news. Completely skips the gossip pages." Donna impatiently interrupted her brother's passionate, soon-to-be sermon on the importance of cultural interaction and travel. "So _really_, what does bring you in?"

"Miss Tyler was hiding from a nasty photographer," John answered, looking over at Rose, beaming.

"And Dr. Smith here saved me. He hid me in a cupboard." Rose gave him a friendly shoulder bump.

Donna watched this exchange, and smiled. She hadn't seen her brother smile at a woman, let alone flirt, since before his marriage to Renee.

"West End actors don't usually have paparazzi tailing them, though, do they?" Donna asked.

"No, they don't," Rose replied with a humorless chuckle. "But my manager, Harry, he's a bit...ambitious, and he's doin' everything he can to capitalize on my former _very_ modest success as a teen star in the States." She shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "I am now officially public fodder." Rose's stomach grumbled loudly, and she flushed with embarrassment.

"You're hungry. Here. Have my lunch. I'm really not all that hungry," John offered kindly.

"I couldn't take your lunch," she shook her head.

"Please. I insist." He held out the white clamshell container.

"Why don't we split it?" she suggested.

Donna still watched on, realizing that these two people seemed to have forgotten she was even there. She smiled, and backed away quietly. She hadn't been joking when she called her brother a hermit. He had been knocked on his emotional backside when his wife had left him for that French businessman fourteen months prior. Not that Donna hadn't secretly cheered when Renee Fisher had given John the walking papers. Donna had always knew that Renee would be trouble. She had a roving eye, and didn't hide the fact. John had been smitten by her substantial intellect, witty repartee and rare beauty.

Donna also knew that someone and something far better was out there for him...someone who would love to travel as much as he, someone who would encourage him to go back to his first love, teaching, or encourage his success with the book shop, if that was what he wanted. She knew whoever loved John would have to be his companion in life, not simply a step along the way to her own success and happiness.

"Sounds brilliant. I'll go get another fork," he answered quietly.

"You know, all of a sudden, I'm craving curry," said Donna. "Gimme that. Ta." Donna snatched the container right out of her brother's hands.

"Hey! That was rude!" he whinged.

"Learned from the best." Donna quickly opened the container, licked the plastic fork and stirred the savory chicken and vegetables with the aromatic rice. "Don't be so cheap. Take her to dinner," she said through the spicy melange.

John opened his mouth, but he could only manage a small squeak.

"Oh come on, John. The poor woman's half starved, just look at her. You two make a pair, you're both skinny strips of nothin'. Maybe you'll fatten each other up a bit."

Rose laughed genuinely. She had lost a bit of weight lately at Harry's direction.

"Donna," he said in a warning tone, "I'm sure she has plans," John hissed out of the side of his mouth, embarrassed by his sister's brashness.

"She is right here, and she doesn't have plans," Rose said, still laughing, though slightly irritated to be outside of the conversation. "I'd love to go to dinner, but what about your shop?"

"I'll close up," Donna said with her mouth full. "Shawn won't be home 'til late anyway. John, you need to do something _normal_. Go already!" Donna looked at him, her eyes silently pushing him out the door.

John ran his hand through his hair nervously. "Well...uh...Rose Tyler, would you care to accompany me? Nothing fancy, mind, just fish and chips at a pub I know."

"Sounds just about perfect. I haven't had proper fish 'n chips since I got back. Harry won't let me eat fried food," she's whispered. "He'll freak if he finds out! But it's my only night off this entire fortnight, and I feel like doing something..._wild_."

She held out her hand in silent invitation for John Smith. "Very nice to meet you Donna," she said looking over her shoulder as she pulled John out of the shop.

"And _very_ nice to meet you Rose. _Good luck!" _Donna mouthed and winked.

"I should call my manager and tell him what's happened," said Rose the moment they hit the pavement. She produced a pink mobile from her hoodie pocket and pressed one of the speed dial buttons. "Hi Harry, it's Rose. Um, Toc LaFan found me again. This time I was out shoppin' in Notting Hill. There's probably gonna be a few pictures and a story tomorrow about me and this bloke I just met named John Smith. He owns the shop I hid in. Gimme a call when you have a chance." She sighed and ended the call with her thumb.

"Will he-this Harry-will he do anything about it?" John asked, concerned.

"He'll try, but there really isn't much he can do other than damage control."

John frowned, disappointed to be labeled thusly, but Rose missed it.

"So, where is this pub?"

"Have to take the Tube. Do you mind? Taking the Tube I mean?" he asked quietly.

"It's fine. I take the Tube all the time. Harry wants me to use a car service, but I refuse."

"Maybe you should. Probably would be more secure, what with those cameras following you..."

"I'll risk it," she said with a bright smile. "Besides, you'll defend me, right?"

"Course I will." John stood up a little more straight.

The pair chatted and laughed on the ride east, and halfway there, Rose turned off of her mobile.

"This is your favorite pub?" Rose asked, scrunching her face a bit as they walked into the dark and dirty local.

"Oh. If you don't like it, we can go someplace else."

"No! That's not it. It's just...this was my Mum's local. I grew up just a few blocks from here...over at the Powell Estate. Just weird bein' back is all."

"Where is your mum now?"

"She stayed on in LA. She was widowed when I was just a baby. I never thought she'd settle down. Kind of a wild one, to be honest. But she met this fantastic bloke in LA. Pete Tyler is his name of all things! Imagine that! He even has the same last name as Mum and me! They hit it off, joked that they were fated, and well, fell in love. Got married two years ago. I have a baby brother now. Tony Tyler." Rose pulled out her phone and showed John a picture of boy with a four-toothed smile, big blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair.

"Cute little tot."

"I miss them...and now it's all but impossible to get back to LA. Feels like Mum, Pete and Tony are a universe away sometimes. Ironic...now that I have the money to travel, I don't have the time."

"And I have all the time in the world, but no money," John said, grimacing humorously. "I'll go order. What do you drink?"

"Why don't you let me pick this one up. You did save me from that monster, Toc," Rose offered.

"Absolutely not! I do have some money you know. It's not like I'm not _completely_ destitute," he said archly. "So what will it be?"

"Fish 'n chips and whatever lager they've got on tap."

"Coming right up." John stood from the dark wood booth they had picked near the dartboard and semi-jogged to the bar.

"Hey Rose, whattya doin' back in the old neighborhood?"

Rose turned her head to the familiar voice owned by a handsome dark-skinned man.

"Oh, hi Micks," Rose pulled him into a friendly hug. "I'm here with someone."

"You mean that dandy in the brown suit ya came in with? What? Is he some posh bloke that Harry made you go out with for publicity purposes?"

Rose turned and looked at John as waited at the busy bar for their drinks.

Rose chuckled self-consciously and ducked her head. "No..." she protested, irritated at Mickey's jealousy. "I just met him this afternoon."

"Oh, hello, who's this? Friend of yours?" John returned with two pints. He set the drinks on the sticky-with-age heavy wooden table.

"John Smith, meet Mickey Smith. Micks is my best friend. He plays Freddy in the show."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Mickey Mick Mickey Smith. Quality last name!" John said with joviality.

Mickey grimaced a bit.

"That creeper of a photographer followed me again today, and I ducked into John's shop totally at random. He really saved me...he hid me in a cupboard." Rose looked over at John and smiled.

"Well then, thanks for takin' care of _my best girl_ this afternoon," Mickey said protectively, as he slapped John on the shoulder and squeezed hard.

"I would expect any gentleman would've done the same," John countered, proudly.

"I know someone who wouldn'ta." Mickey cast a knowing look at Rose, who screwed up her mouth and looked away. "I hear Jimmy Stone is trying to get back into the show. The Tabs say you've been seein' him on the sly."

"Micks, don't..." Rose crossed her arms and cocked her hip.

"Well, are ya?" Mickey pressed.

"No, I'm not, and since when do you believe anything those liars say about me?" She sighed. "Why you bein' this way, Mickey?" Rose looked down at the fingernails on her right hand, which were suddenly very interesting. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Course it's my business! Who else is gonna watch out for ya? Your mum 'n Pete is in LA, that creep of a manager only cares about his bank account, and-"

"And where were you this afternoon, Ricky?" John put a protective arm around Rose's shoulder.

"An' who are you again mate? Oh that's right! You're the bloke she met a few hours ago." Mickey straightened up, trying to match John's height and puffed out his chest attempting masculine superiority.

John tipped his chin upward, and spoke with authority. "I'm Dr. John Smith, and I was actually _there_ for her."

"Yeah, whatever mate." He turned his attention back to Rose. "See ya at the theater tomorrow, Rose." Mickey turned and left.

"Dare I ask what that was about?" John asked.

"Uh...well...Mickey was the best friend I could ever have, but being just best friends wasn't enough for him. He...he wanted more. We dated a few times but, well..." Rose's voice trailed off.

"Ah. He fancies you more than you fancy him, right?" His voice was kind. "That can be awkward."

"I've tried to tell him that I didn't want to be that way...but he just can't, or won't, believe it. Still thinks we have a chance at something more."

John nodded in understanding. "Before I was married, when I was still teaching at the University, I found myself in a similar situation. Her name was Martha, Martha Jones - lovely, lovely woman. Brilliant in fact. She was my teaching assistant, and a doctoral candidate. She fancied me, and...things became quite awkward there for a while." He took a sip of his ale, and pursed his lips as he savored the yeasty beverage. "I can be a bit of a flirt, and I suppose I should have taken her feelings into consideration."

Rose smiled. "So you tellin' me I shouldn't take your flirting to heart, then..."

A endearing flush of red spread across his cheeks and nose, giving away that perhaps, his flirtation with Rose Tyler was not of the common 'I flirt with everyone' variety. He opened his mouth and closed it twice, trying to decided whether or not to say what he really wanted to say. "You can...if you want to...that is...you don't have to...but...well..."

She looked up and swallowed hard. In a tone nearly as quiet as a whisper, but with enough weight behind it for John to hear, she finally spoke. "I'd like to take it to heart, I think..." She looked down into the golden liquid in her glass before looking up once again, but this time, she looked directly into his eyes.

John alternated between smiling and trying very hard not to, nodding in a nervous head bobbing sort of way, but then she laughed. "What's so funny?" he asked, affronted.

"You! You're so nervous. It's sweet."

"Sweet. Just what every man wants to be called," he said with a chuckle.

"But you are! But I suppose I coulda chosen a more manly word," she rolled her eyes. "Gallant? Chivalrous? Like some old knight or somethin'..."

"I'll have you know I am _very_ manly." He was flirting again if the raspy tone of his voice was any indication.

"I bet you are..." she flirted right back.

Rose and John drank a bit too much, talked and flirted for several hours. Occasionally they danced, to both slow and fast tunes. The final song was slow, sultry and leant itself to more of a swaying motion than actual dancing.

Rose's arms were draped up and around John's neck, and his hands were low, one in the concave of her waist. The other hand decided if it was going to rest on her hip or drift down to her bum. Rose was hoping for the latter, but John seemed hesitant. She snuggled closer, and rested her cheek on his chest. She breathed in and inhaled the scent of his skin, free of cologne, long gone at the lateness of the hour. John rested his face in her soft hair.

It had been so long since John had allowed his mind to even drift this direction. Was it possible to have such strong feelings for someone so quickly? To want more after only a few hours? He was definitely attracted to her, and she was, to him, if the way she had her hands in his hair was any indication.

"John..." Rose whispered, pulling her face away from his chest. "Do you think I could stay at your place tonight? I mean, just ta sleep... on your sofa or somethin'. I'm tired, and I don't wanna deal with a taxi...and...well..." her voice trailed off.

"I would never make you sleep on a sofa. You take my bed," he said before he swallowed hard.

oOo

Rose stirred, and lifted her head off of John's bare chest. He was still asleep, face completely relaxed, free from worry. She sighed...she'd never done this before, never been intimate with a man she had known for only a few hours.

The night was a bit of a blur after they left the pub. She wasn't sure who made the first move in the taxi, but someone's hands began to roam, and then someone's lips kissed, and by the time they had made it inside the blue door of his Notting Hill home, and he had confirmed that his housemate was not there, they were pulling each other's clothing off and tumbling into bed.

Now she was going to have to face the morning after. He was so much older than her, and obviously far more experienced if his skill as a lover were any indication. She was going to have to face the fact that she had just experienced her first one-night stand.

Carefully, she stole out of bed, slipped on his shirt that together they had removed so feverishly the night before. Her clothing was strewn in a trail from the hallway to the bed, and she'd retrieve as soon as she could. Once in the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked thoroughly shagged. There was a red mark on her neck. She'd have to cover that up with pancake before she got into the makeup chair, or else Sarah Jane, her dresser, would give her a motherly lecture. She dreaded what Mickey would say even more.

She closed her eyes and leaned heavily on the sink, deep in thought. She jumped when two hairy arms wrapped around her waist and warm lips met the nape of her neck.

"Good morning." John's voice was thick with sleep, gravely and utterly delicious sounding.

Rose smiled nervously. "Hello."

"Would you like some breakfast? I pour a lovely bowl of Wheatabix."

"Yeah. Sounds...sounds good." She breathed in and out a few times, still very nervous. "John, I...I don't know how...I drank too much and...I'm sorry...I don't...I've never ever-"

He slowly pulled his arms from around her waist and backed away. She could see a confused look on his face, and perhaps even hurt in his eyes.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I guess I misunderstood," he said, downcast. "This is what people do these days isn't it? Have a tumble with someone they are attracted to. What do you young people call it? Hooking up?"

"No! No...I don't...I don't do that. I don't just hook up. I thought that you...being older...um...and obviously experienced," she said, clearing her dry throat, "would assume that I knew this was a one-night stand, and I didn't want it to be awkward for you at all so I was just going to, you know, slip out, 'cos I really don't know what the proper etiquette of these things is..."

"So this was a one night stand," he stated flatly.

She ignored him, not wanting to appear naive. "I...oh...I...never mind." She pulled him down into a smoldering kiss, trying desperately to prove just how worldly and grown up she was. They parted amicably, and she was proud of just how detached and grown up she had appeared. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

oOo

Rose had non-stop shows for the next ten weeks. Harry had negotiated an increase in her salary in exchange for no days off. She thought often about calling John, but something always came up and she put it off. There were television and radio interviews, extra rehearsals as new cast members with stronger CVs were hired, and added matinees. The show was a bona fide smash hit.

Rose scanned the audience from the wings before every performance, hoping to see John. She was disappointed that he never showed up. She had resigned herself to the fact that their night together had, indeed, been a one-night stand. She needed to be a grown up about it, despite the profound disappointment she was feeling.

It was Saturday night. There had been a matinee of course, and the evening show had been sold out. She was exhausted and a bit dizzy by the time Rose was called out for the third curtain call. The scent of the large bouquet of flowers thrust into her arms was overwhelmingly pungent. She took her final bow, kept her smile bright. As soon as the final curtain fell, she dropped the flowers and fled the stage, running straight for the loo.

"Rose darling, are you alright?" Rose heard Sarah Jane's lyrical voice through the thin door to the toilet in her dressing room.

"I think I've got the flu or somethin'. Haven't felt well for a week or so..."

"You have been looking awfully pale."

Rose emerged and washed her mouth with a few splashes of water. She straightened up and smoothed out her white dress, the final costume of the show. "Did I get it dirty?" she asked, looking down at the simple shift.

"No, it's fine. Darling, when was the last time you had your monthly?"

"Uh...I don't remember..."

"Come on. I'm taking you to my home. You're in no position to put yourself into a taxi. We can stop at the all-night chemist's on the way for something for your nausea."

Rose nodded and slowly gathered her things from around her messy dressing room.

"Darling, every night you look out over the audience for someone. I recognize that look of disappointment when he never comes. I've had it myself." Sarah Jane's voice was gentle and calming. "What's his name?"

Rose swallowed hard and sighed, eyes closed, hoping beyond hope that what she'd been suspecting and ignoring for two weeks now would simply disappear. It wasn't going away, and if everything went along without incident, it wouldn't for nine months. "John. His name was John."

* * *

This is what happens when _some_ people are cowardly and don't say what they really want to say... Anything you want to say to me? :D


	3. Chapter 3

My Fair Rose

Chapter 3

Rose sat on the lid of the closed toilet, hunched over. Her legs were crossed and she was nervously bouncing her foot. The timer on her pink mobile chirped much too cheerfully for the occasion. "You look. I can't," she whispered to her friend.

Sarah Jane let go of Rose's hand, and picked up the ubiquitous white stick that held the power to change twenty year old girl's life forever.

"It's positive." Sarah Jane's voice was straightforward, but not without compassion. She held the stick out to her friend to see with her own eyes.

Rose stared at the little pink plus sign. "Gimme the second one. It was a two-pack, right?"

Sarah Jane handed Rose the box with incredulity. "Do you really expect a different result, Rose?"

Rose closed her eyes and breathed her answer. "It has to be different. It just has to..."

"These tests are astoundingly accurate. Your monthly almost a month late, you said so yourself. You're tired. You're nauseated. I don't mean to bang the drum, but Rose, face it. You are pregnant. No undoing what's done."

"What am I gonna do now, Sarah Jane? I _can't_ be pregnant! I'm too young! I...I...I have a career! I'm not married! My Mum is on the other side of the world, and...and...I...I...have to tell Harry! He's going to...murder me! And...and...John...what about him? Do I tell him? Do I hide it from him? Please! Tell me! What am I supposed to do now?" Rose lost all composure and the tenuous grasp on her emotions. The pregnancy test slipped from her fingers and fell onto the spotlessly clean black and white tile floor with a quiet clatter.

Sarah Jane gathered the sobbing girl into her arms and rubbed her back in comforting little circles. "Hush...hush darling. Breathe..."

Rose leaned on the woman who had come to be someone she regarded as the perfect cross between a favorite aunt and wise older sister, with a dash of best friend. In time, Rose's sobbing calmed into infrequent hiccoughs, and Sarah Jane led her out of the toilet room, and into the lounge.

"Rose, the first thing you need to do is get some rest. It's nearly one in the morning. Thankfully the theater is dark tomorrow, so you can sleep in. You've been pushed too hard by that wretched Harry Saxon, and now you have someone else to consider. But we'll talk about all of this in the morning. Come on then, up with you, you're staying with me tonight."

Rose nodded and let Sarah Jane guide her up the beautiful wooden staircase of the big, old house on Bannerman Road. Rose slid under the covers, still wearing her post-show uniform, a hoodie and jeans. She shimmied out of her tight denims and pushed them out of the bed, onto the floor, and then immediately fell into a fitful, dream-filled sleep.

_Toc LaFan was chasing her through the deserted and darkened streets of Notting Hill. She felt herself flying, out of control, like her life was being sucked away, and she slammed into the closed door of John's book shop, but the shop had gone out of business. It was dark inside. The door was locked and nailed shut. She pounded on the door, banging it with her fists, begging John to take her back. And then her mother appeared, peeled her away, telling her it was no use...she was alone now..._

Rose awoke with a start, sitting up. She looked at the old fashioned, two-bell alarm clock on the bedside table. It was quarter after eight in the morning, and the sun was already streaming through the delicate lace curtains, blowing in the late spring breeze. She fell back onto the fine cotton of the white pillowcase, remembering where she was, and why she was sleeping in Sarah Jane's guest room.

She was pregnant...

she was alone...

and Harold Saxon was going to be furious.

oOo

Donna Smith smugly sashayed into Flat Earth Books with an enigmatic grin on her face. She reached into her huge, brand new and expensive designer leather handbag and pulled out a small, narrow envelope, which she slapped down on the counter with great dramatics.

"Look. What. I. Have." She punctuated each word, and then pushed off of the counter waiting for her adulation.

John frowned at her over his black spectacles that had slipped down his nose. He pushed them up before picking up the envelope and staring at it.

"What are you waiting for, Spaceman? Open it already, and...happy early birthday to us!" She lost her cool composure, gushing with anticipation.

John opened the envelope, and pulled out four theatre tickets, fanning them elegantly in his hand.

"_My Fair Lady_! Right front loge, first row! Sunday night!" Her voice was nearly squealing now. "You, me, Shawn and Grandad! Mum didn't want to go, thank God."

"Donna, how...what...when...how? How can you afford this? You can't afford this!" John protested, his nose and eyes crinkled in worry.

"Oh shut it you, and just thank me, already!"

John moved around the counter and hugged his sister. "Thank you. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"Well, you know me, always looking out for my little brother."

"I'm little brother by one measly minute," he reminded his fraternal twin sister.

"And don't you ever forget it." She patted his freckled cheek fondly and sat down on an overstuffed chair next to the section dedicated to winter travel hotspots. "John, it's so good to see a real smile on that handsome, skinny face of yours. You've had a little tiny black cloud over your head ever since you met Rose Tyler, and it's about time you had a smile on your face again."

John flushed a bit at the memory of that one passionate night with Rose Tyler, and then regained his cool composure. "Yeah...well..."

"When are you going to tell me what happened? Something happened, I know it. I can feel it in my bones. You sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright, I'm always alright." He returned his attention to the book he had been reading when she had stormed into the shop.

Donna stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Oh don't give me that _I'm always alright_ bollocks. You haven't been alright since before you married Renee...the two-timing cow...except for those precious few hours after Rose Tyler ducked into this shop. Now tell me why you aren't outside of the stage door every night, giving her a congratulatory snog? The way the two of you were making moon eyes at each other-"

"Yeah...well..."

"Yeah, well...what?" she mimicked her brother's overused phrase, mocking him.

"We went to the pub. Talked, danced, laughed...drank..." He smiled sadly in recollection. "It was obvious that we both enjoyed each other's company. It was getting very late, and she was tired. She asked if she could sleep on my sofa."

Donna's eyebrows shot up.

"So we went back to my place and..." he swallowed hard, furrowed his brow and blushed. "Yadda yadda yadda..." He rolled his hand for emphasis. "The next morning, I tried to ask her if she wanted to see me again, but she looked at her watch, gasped, said she had to run, and I haven't heard from her since. End of story. Finito."

"But you had fun, right?" Donna asked lamely.

"Donna, I'm too old to just want fun. I'm certainly not looking for anything serious-let alone looking-but I wasn't counting on it being so...so...casual."

Donna laid her hand on his arm in sisterly affection.

"I'm old and old fashioned. Not _hip_ enough. Do people even say hip anymore?" He shook his head and ruffled his already messy hair. "She was looking for a _hookup._" John air quoted the ugly word. "I thought I...I guess I was _stupid_ to think she was actually interested in me. I'm chalking it up to bad judgment on my part."

"I'm genuinely sorry, John." She was genuinely sympathetic. "Do you still want to see the show?"

"Actually, yeah, I do. I hear it is fantastic! So how _did_ you get those tickets?"

"I have another bit of news. I won the lottery, John! Me! The lottery! Shawn and me, we're set for life!" Donna screamed, waving her hands above her head.

oOo

Rose had developed a pernicious case of morning sickness, though she had no idea why it was called morning sickness, when it struck her out of the blue, any time of day or night. She had tried digestives, ginger candy, sea-bands, yoga and various herbal teas. Her obstetrician, Dr. Harriet Jones, had prescribed an anti-nausea medication, but Rose had yet to fill the prescription.

Toc LaFan continued to shadow her, and she was terrified the man would pay off the chemist to sell the story. Oddly, however, there hadn't been one story or photograph published since the day after she ducked into the bookstore, when a story ran with the headline, "Rose Tyler and Her New Brainy Beau?" It had been relatively tame. Harry hadn't even submitted a formal request for retraction.

So far, Rose's secret had stayed between Sarah Jane and her, although Rose suspected that Mickey was suspicious. He'd been very protective of her recently, bringing her fruit and vegetable health drinks from the juice bar down the block, and not letting her pick up heavy items, and such.

She still had not told her mother.

Most worrying, she had not told Harry.

She breathed in and out while Sarah Jane rubbed her shoulders, as was their pre-show ritual after she had been dressed and made up for her first scene. Sarah Jane patted her shoulders, and prompted her to stand up. "You look like a proper guttersnipe, darling." She adjusted Rose's ridiculously oversized beehive wig slightly. "There. Perfectly tacky."

"Thanks," she said quietly before heading to the wings. The orchestra was halfway through the overture when she discreetly peeked out to survey the audience. Unsurprisingly, the house was full. Sunday night audiences were always a joy. They were relaxed and responsive, sometimes even downright boisterous. She turned to make her way to her mark stage right, and squealed softly as she ran straight into Harold Saxon.

"Hush..." He put a manicured fingertip to her lips. "Can't have you making noise backstage now can we?"

She forced a smile. "Hi Harry. You surprised me is all," she whispered as she quietly made her way through the props and actors milling around backstage.

"How does Christmas in Malibu sound?" he purred as he draped his arm around her shoulders.

Rose immediately tensed up. There were several things that Rose disliked about Harold Saxon: numbers one and two on the list were how he made her work for information and how he had a habit of touching her, not quite inappropriately, but certainly not welcome.

"I'll tell you at Intermission." He turned on his Italian leather heel and disappeared into the recesses of the theatre.

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head, frustrated. Why she had ever listened to Henry Van Statten's advice and hired Harold Saxon...

The curtain jerked, she took her mark, posing with her shopping tote of flowers for sale in hand...

oOo

"Donna tells me you know Rose Tyler." Granddad Wilf whispered loudly into his favorite grandson's ear.

"I suppose you could say..." John cleared his throat. "Yes. I know Rose Tyler." He left it at that.

"Purty one, she is. Nice legs." Wilf elbowed his grandson in the side. "I always was a leg man. Your Grandma, God rest her soul...now she had great gams. Took her dancin' every Saturday night, and every summer, we would go to Brighton and dance in the ballroom." Wilf looked wistfully off into the distance for a moment.

"Quiet Granddad," Donna chastised.

oOo

John kept his attention riveted on the stage as Eliza whinged and threw a fit, exhausted from her elocution lessons.

"'_ow kind o' ya ta let me come..."_ Eliza repeated sloppily.

"_No, no, no, no, no!" _Professor Higgins hollered. He picked up the mallet and played the tones on his bells._ "Again! Again! Again! Like this! How kind of you to let me come..."_

Eliza rolled her eyes dramatically, whirled around, looking at various places in the theatre as she did each and every performance, and locked eyes with John Smith. Rose stood frozen. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. She looked at the actor playing Professor Higgins and swallowed hard. She looked back at John one last time and smiled, though only he would have seen it, for its subtlety.

"_How kind of you to let me come." _She recited the words with more passion and perfection that she could ever remember.

Professor Higgins smiled and the scene progressed. When the time came to sing, _I Could Have Danced All Night,_ she felt as if she were dancing on air, and the number received a rare mid-performance ovation. John was the first one to stand.

Intermission came and she literally ran into to her dressing room to change. She burst through the door. "Sarah Jane! He's here! In the most expensive loge!"

"Who is, beautiful?" Harold Saxon was sitting at her dressing table, preening.

"Where's Sarah Jane? I need help getting outta this dress and inta my ball gown."

"I suppose she's off doing something...theatre-ish. Turn around. I'll get your zip," he ordered.

"Wha'? No you won't," protested Rose with a frown, backing away.

"Oh come now gorgeous, don't tell me you're suddenly shy. I thought theatre people were free and comfortable with their bodies. Dressing in front of strangers should be old hat by now. And I am certainly no stranger."

"Uh, yeah, but thing is, you ain't theatre people, so sod off Harry." Rose pulled off her wig and re-tightened her ponytail in preparation for the elaborate wig she would be wearing in the next scene.

"Somebody's not having a good day. Tell me _all_ your troubles, Rosie Rose Rose." Harry sat back down in the dressing chair and folded his hands. His eyes were slitted as he studied her.

Rose's breath hitched as she was positive she saw him rest his eyes on her bloated stomach. It was far too early for a baby bump to have begun forming, but she had gained a bit of weight as her body began to change. His eyes moved back to her face.

"I'm tired, alright? You've got me run ragged, Harry. When do I get a break? I just need a break..." Rose rubbed her temple, feeling the first warning signs of a wave of nausea.

Sarah Jane arrived carrying Rose's next costume. "There. All sorted. Seam let out, darling. Sorry I'm late. Oh...Mr. Saxon. I didn't know you were here. I'll need you to leave now please." Sarah Jane spoke with smiling authority, unafraid of the intimidating man.

"A seam needed letting out. Tsk, tsk, tsk." He wagged his finger in her face. "Have you been sneaking chips again? I told before, no chips..." he sing-songed, but didn't wait for any response from Rose, who had crossed her arms protectively across herself. "Now that we're clear on that, the news I promised. The movie has been green lighted. Big Hollywood production. Very flash. Very well funded. Big talent. Hugh Jackman is in talks for the role of Higgins. Think..._Moulin Rouge_ meets _My Fair Lady._ Hold onto your frilly pink knickers, Rose, you're about to be bigger than you ever, ever dreamed or imagined."

Rose's stomach lurched, and she lunged for her private toilet, and promptly got sick.

Harold Saxon didn't wait to ask how she was. He simply left.

oOo

The house manager came onto the stage at the end of intermission. "Due to unexpected illness, the part of Eliza Doolittle will be played by Astrid Peth for the rest of the performance."

John's heart stopped for a moment. He immediately left his seat. With his ticket firmly in hand, he made his way to the nearest usher. All he had to do was show him that magic ticket, the best seat in the house, and he was immediately granted access backstage.

"Please, I'm a friend of Ms. Tyler's. May I see her? Make sure she's alright?" John asked the first person he saw.

"Hey mate, what you doing back here?" Mickey Smith, Freddy the would-be-suitor, appeared. "John Smith, wasn't it?"

"I came to the show tonight, and I'm worried about Rose. Is she alright?"

"Dunno." Mickey shrugged, blase'. "Sarah Jane said she hurled. Think she's got the flu or somethin'. She's takin' Rose home. Ya might be able ta catch her, ya might not." Mickey walked away.

"Thanks, that was really helpful. No, really you shouldn't have..." John called after him, facetiously.

Mickey stopped in his tracks and turned back around. "Thing is, I don't think it's the flu. When was the last time ya saw Rose?"

John tugged on his ear nervously. "Haven't seen her recently."

"Didn't think so. If ya had been takin' care of her, like ya promised, you'd know she wasn't okay."

John frowned, feeling the disdain rolling off of Mickey in waves. "If it isn't the flu, what's wrong with Rose?"

"Not my secret ta tell, mate." With that, Mickey left for real.

John whirled around, looking for someone who would give him an answer, and then he saw Rose. She looked positively miserable. A pretty middle-aged woman was walking next to her, rubbing her back. It was apparent that Rose had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her makeup was off, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, off to the side, as if it had been done without any regard to style.

"Rose..." John looked at her with pure concern.

"Hello," she whispered.

"Aren't you going to introduce me, Rose?" Sarah Jane asked a bit smugly.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Uh, Sarah Jane Smith, this is John Smith. He's...he's..." Rose wasn't quite sure how to describe him.

"I'm a friend, though apparently not a very good one, from what Mr. Mickey has just been telling me."

"I'll leave you two alone." Sarah Jane took her leave.

John put his hands in his pockets and approached Rose gingerly.

"Uh..." Rose dodged his gaze, unable to look him directly in the eye.

"Rose, what's wrong?"

"Could we go somewhere? Somewhere private please?" she asked quietly, looking anywhere but at him.

"Of course." He extended his hand, and hesitantly, she took it. Together without another word, they headed towards stage door.

From the shadows, a seething Harold Saxon observed _his_ Rose Tyler. How dare she ruin his master plan? He _owned_ her. She was chattel...his _stupid _human performing ape...and she _had_ been stupid, she had given in to her _stupid_ human urges, and hadn't taken preventative measures.

oOo

"Hi Donna, it's me." John spoke quietly into his mobile. "I'm with Rose...we're going to grab a bite to eat...No...No...I won't be coming back...Yes I know how much that ticket cost!...I'll...I'll...Donna...let get me a word in!...Forget it...I'll see you tomorrow." He ended the call with his thumb and a muttered curse.

"I'm sorry you missed the show. Astrid is really good. Really. You wouldn't be missing out at all. I'll make sure you get a new ticket. New ticket for your sister, too...She sounds like she's pretty angry."

"Donna and I are...oh, never mind. Doesn't matter right now. I'm worried about you. Where would you like to go?" John asked.

"I'm not...I'm not ill if that's what you're wondering. Well, not sick like cancer...or...TB or AIDS or anything. I'm...exhausted, both mentally and physically. I haven't had a day off since the day we met, John. That's why I haven't called you. Harry has been working me to death. If I ain't here, I'm bein' interviewed on the radio, or TV...or by a magazine. Last week I drew the winning ticket at the Henrik's raffle. Laughed at that..." She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. "Please...just take me home. I just want to be in my own home, in my own bed."

"This bed or yours, is it big enough for two?" John flirted without thinking.

"Are you kidding me? Did you just...try to hook up with me? After ten weeks of not one word from you? Maybe Donna was right. Maybe you are a spaceman." Rose pulled away from him and walked two paces ahead and then stopped and turned to look back at the man.

John had frozen in his tracks and was staring at her, flabbergasted. "You didn't come and see me either, Rose, and you know where I live and work," he replied angrily. "You all but said it was a one-night stand."

"I never said it was a one-night stand! Never!" She held her tears back, but her lip was quivering fiercely.

"What? What...what about what you said in the loo?" he shouted. "Rose, we...we had sex. Several times. And it was fantastic, and I truly thought you wanted to know me better. I certainly wanted to know you more. And yes we were hasty, and yes it was foolish to have a tumble without even knowing each other. But Rose, you just left. You looked at the clock, said you had to go, and you just _left_. What was I supposed to think? If anything screams hook-up or one-night-stand or just shagging..."

"I don't know!" she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I don't know what I was thinking! I thought you thought it was a one-night stand! I've never..never in my life done that! I don't do that! I have only been with one other man before you, and he hit me! I don't know how this is supposed to work! I thought I was being mature, and not clingy and..."

A vacant taxi approached, and John hailed it. The couple scampered in and sat on opposite sides of the seat, as far from each other as possible. The cabbie looked in the rear view mirror. "Where to?"

John looked at Rose, prompting her to tell the cabbie her address. Rose leaned forward and answered the driver quietly, without emotion. The ride to Rose's upscale but small flat was silent, save the occasional sniffles coming from Rose. As soon as they had arrived, Rose paid the cab fare before John could even reach inside of his suit coat for his wallet. They climbed out and Rose led the way to her door. She inserted her card key and let them in. The lift ride was equally silent, minus the sniffing.

"Thank you for walking me up. You can go now. Here's fare for a cab." Rose pulled a stack of notes which were apparently loose in her handbag. She opened the door, and started to close it, but John put his foot in the door, and then braced it with his hand, preventing her from closing him off.

"No Rose, this time, we're going to talk. Properly. Let me in. Please."

Rose opened the door, and nodded her assent.

"Do you want something to drink? I only have Pilsner and it's cold. I developed a taste for ice cold beer in the States. Underage..." she whispered. "Help yourself, I'm trying to get rid of the rest of it. I've given up alcohol."

"No thanks. A glass of water would be fine."

"Suit yourself," Rose replied cooly. She filled two glasses of water, one warm and one cold. She kept the warm one for herself, a strange craving she'd had lately. "Lemon? Ice?"

"Hmm?" John asked, his attention suddenly divided as he looked down at the two most recent issues of _Fit Pregnancy_, neatly stacked on the coffee table. _Your Pregnancy Week By Week_ topped the stack. His eyes drifted to the kitchen. There was a grainy black and white photograph under a blue smiley magnet, the type you grab by the nose.

John stepped closer, curious about the odd photograph, which wasn't a photograph at all. It was a sonogram picture. He cleared his throat and then let out a squeak.

"You figure it out yet?" she asked snidely, mentally kicking herself for her rudeness.

"Might have," he whispered as he carefully plucked the image from the refrigerator door. His hands were shaking as he stared at it. The digital imprint on the side indicated the photo belonged to Tyler, Rose. The date was two days prior, Friday. "Estimated gestation, fifteen weeks," John whispered. "You're pregnant, and you were too afraid to tell me so when we met."

"What?" she shook her head. "No. I wasn't pregnant when we met, John, and yes, I am pregnant. You're the father."

"But...but...this says fifteen weeks gone. I only met you ten weeks ago."

"They measure gestation from the last recorded period. Subtract five weeks. You're the father. Believe me. There's no one else. Hasn't been anyone else since Jimmy Stone, like I told outside the theatre."

"Oh."

Rose was giving an Oscar-worthy performance, keeping her voice cool and calm.

"Oh," he repeated.

"Is 'oh' all you can say? 'Cos I was hoping for somethin' a little better, you bein' a doctor and all. Thought you'd at least gimme a real word, or even a little sentence. At least a 'wow' or a 'didn't expect that' or...anything...else..." Her acting abilities fled, and she leaned against the counter and sobbed.

In two steps, John was behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling the tight bundle of Rose into his arms and soothing her.

"I don't have anything to say right now Rose because I'm too afraid I'm going to say the wrong thing. If you want me to be honest, I'll be honest. If you want me to simply agree with you, tell me how you are feeling and I will agree with you...although I can guess from your state right now that you aren't too happy about it."

"Truth. I want the truth," she replied, nodding her head rapidly.

"Alrighty then, the truth." He sucked in a deep breath and puffed it out. "I'm surprised...I'm...scared and disappointed-"

"Disappointed. I should have know you'd be-" she launched into her reply.

"You're as bad as Donna. Let me finish please." He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered, "go on."

"I'm disappointed that I haven't been with you to share your pain and fear and discomfort. I truly, truly wish I had been there for you. I told you I would protect you, and I let you down."

"I thought you were trying to one-up Mickey when you promised that." She cracked a smile, but it quickly dissipated.

"That wouldn't be too difficult," he replied proudly. "Anyway, I'm a part of this too, you know. I did participate, after all. I always take responsibility for my actions, or at least I try to, unless the power to take said responsibility has been taken away from me."

"So...you're not mad at me?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"I didn't tell you I wasn't on the pill. The hormones made me gain weight, so I stopped takin' 'em."

"Gain weight? You stopped taking them because you were gaining weight? Hold on, he told you stop taking them, didn't he? That Saxon man? The same man who told you not to eat fried food?"

"Yeah...he said I looked puffy. Looked bad under the lights. Bad for my career."

"So what are your plans? Will you continue acting? If anything, I think you need a new manager, Rose. Something about him...I don't know..." John looked out into the distance. "I don't like him."

"Let me worry about Harry," she said, stubbornly crossing her arms. "But yeah, I want to stay in the show as long as they'll have me. I'm going to have to tell Harry at some point, and I suppose this means the movie deal is in jeopardy."

"He doesn't know?"

"No. I've been too scared to tell him. I only saw my OB just Friday, when I got that ultrasound you're holding."

"Healthy? Both you and the baby?"

"Yeah..." She nodded gravely. "Thanks for asking."

"Of course I'd ask. I care about you, and now, you're carrying my child," he said with emotion.

"So you don't...you don't want me to...get rid...end...go to a clinic and...terminate?"

"No." John's answer was simple and to the point. "Would you have considered termination had I been upset?"

"No," she whispered. "Can we sit down? I'm awfully tired."

They moved to the sofa together and sat down wearily.

"So Rose Tyler, where do we go from here?"

"What do you want to do?" She picked at her fingernails.

John sighed and leaned his head back and then turned to look at her. "The morning after we...made that," he looked down at Rose's stomach, "I woke up thinking that I really wanted to know you more. Perhaps we should start at the beginning? Get to know one another properly? Find out if we even _like_ each other."

"You have your doubts?" Rose cracked a smile as she teased him.

"Not really...I think you're brilliant, to be honest. I really loved the show...you in it particularly..."

"Thank you."

"Alright then. Rose Tyler, would you go out with me? When is your next day off?"

"Tomorrow, actually."

"Very good. I'll be round to pick you up at 4:00 in the afternoon. No late nights for you."

"Okay," she replied with a grin. "Tomorrow at 4:00."

"You need your rest, Rose. I'm going to go. I feel funny asking this, but may I have your phone number?"

Rose giggled. "We did get it a bit out of order didn't we?" She found a pen and a sheet of paper and jotted down her number and full address. "Now yours."

He did the same, and they exchanged information.

"Goodnight Rose."

"Goodnight John."

And just like that, he left, whistling a merry tune.

oOo

Rose awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. She wearily opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It was half eight. She pulled herself out of bed and slipped on a tracksuit to answer the door.

"Good morning, Rose. You're late for an appointment."

"Appointment? Wha' you goin' on about?"

"Chop chop! Don't bother cleaning your teeth or taking a shower."

"This is my one day off," she whimpered, exhausted, as she leaned heavily against the door frame.

"Oh come now Rose. Did you really expect me not to figure out your little secret? I'm here to make things easy on you. I've made all the arrangements. You simply need to come with me, and we'll make this little problem of yours disappear."

* * *

Lest you think these two are falling into a happy, perfect relationship too soon, you're right. Nothing is solved in one five minute conversation. The story is far from done.

Thanks for all of the follows and favorites!


	4. Chapter 4

**My Fair Rose  
****Chapter 4**

The man had a way of making you think you were choosing him, when in reality, he was choosing _you. _Of course, he only chose the most promising, most stellar, and most outstanding artists. Bottom line, if Harold K. Saxon deigned to allow you to sign him to represent you, that meant you were _golden_. Guaranteed.

He was charismatic, outgoing, engaging and magnetic. He was a chameleon. He could become whatever you, his client, needed. If you needed him to stroke your diva ego, he would. Be your fun loving, favorite uncle? Protective big brother? Authoritative father figure? A combination of any or all of these wrapped up in one polished, smiling, gorgeous package? He could and he would...that is, until he didn't anymore...and by then it was far too late...he would have you trapped in a locked, golden cage, and he held the one and only key.

oOo

Harry had been Rose's manager for a few weeks when Rose seriously began to question her decision. He had quickly ceased to be the _favorite uncle slash big brother she never had_, and showed his true intentions. That was when he opened the golden cage and locked her in.

Rose was taken to lunch by the man. He said it was to celebrate her first dress rehearsal. She had ordered fish and chips, the only choice considering he has taken her to a restaurant that _only_ served fish and chips. The food arrived. Rose reached for the vinegar, and shook the bottle over the fried fish and potatoes with vigor. She smiled and asked Harry why he hadn't ordered anything. He didn't answer her, simply folded his hands on the table and watched her eat.

"Wan'somma mine?" she had asked, her mouth full of greasy potato.

Instead of taking a chip or two off of her plate, Harry pulled the plate to him with a cheeky grin and ate one of the delectable potato wedges with a flourish.

"Oi, those are mine!" she chided, good natured, slapping his hand away from her stolen plate.

His smile disappeared, and he locked his eyes on hers. Casually, _intentionally_, he nudged the plate off of the table with his forearm. Rose jumped as the white, porcelain shattered into sharp shards.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" Rose had asked quietly, shocked.

"It isn't becoming to lie, Rose," he whispered, but then he rose his voice. "Rose Marion Tyler! Don't be such a spoiled brat! If you didn't like chips, you shouldn't have ordered them!" Of course, everyone had turned and looked.

The angry manager had strode over to their table, furious. "Is there a problem here?" The manager towered over Rose, staring down at the stunned young woman. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"I have to apologize for my friend here," Saxon said cooly. "She has a bit of a temper. And I would appreciate if you didn't leak this to the press. It might hurt her reputation. She hates negative publicity. Come along, Rose."

Harry had then opened his fine Italian leather wallet, and drawn out notes totaling one hundred pounds. He stuffed them into the manager's shirt pocket. "This should cover any inconvenience she may have caused."

Rose had been so shocked by the incident that she didn't bring it up again. Harry called her later that day, and apologized profusely, telling her that he had been given bad news and has been on edge. He kindly requested that she keep a diet and exercise journal, which he explained was not an unusual request. He also told her, with a lilt in his voice, "But gorgeous, one more thing. No more chips. Wouldn't want you to lose that figure of yours. It's a moneymaker."

More demands came. He told her where to shop, when and where to be seen and not. He set her up on blind dates with both appropriate and inappropriate pretty boys, depending upon the image he wanted her to project that week, good girl gone bad, or bad girl gone good. He told her to snog them for the paparazzi. "It's acting, beautiful! It's all acting! I want your face everywhere!"

Rose found herself wanting to rebel like a petulant teenager. She began to sneak chips, to wear pink, which he told her expressly _not_ to wear (too innocent). She stood up a few blind dates. Most of all, she began to run from the paparazzi instead of pose and smile. She led them on merry chases through London, successfully hiding from their camera lenses...

And then the day before Rose Tyler met John Smith, she received a letter postmarked Broadfell Prison. At first she chalked up the warnings written to her by her manager's ex-wife, Lucy Cole-Saxon, as the ravings of a woman who was perhaps, criminally insane. But she sat down and really started to think about Saxon's behavior. Lucy's warnings were playing out, so she decided to ask around about the ex-Mrs. Saxon. Apparently, the woman had attempted to murder her husband, been tried and found guilty. She was sentenced to life in prison.

Rose kept the letter, but tried not to think about it too much. And soon, she _did_ forget about it. Something else took its place, something occupied most of her thoughts: the results of her pregnancy test.

oOo

Harry regarded Rose through slitted eyes. He studied her rumpled appearance and the fatigue evident on her face. "You look awful, Rose. I don't believe that you wear pregnancy very well. Where's the glow? Where's the joy of impending motherhood?" He took a step closer. "Where's the father, hmm? Did he abandon you?"

A little voice in Rose's Tyler's head was whispering, "you should have believed Lucy," and then the voice said, "call John..." Rose Tyler paid attention.

"Uh, Harry, I need to just...get my handbag and use the toilet, alright? You know how it is with us..." she closed her eyes and sighed a hitching breath, "pregnant women."

Harry smiled coldly and patted her head condescendingly. "Now there's a good girl. I knew you'd see it my way. A pregnancy would only derail our plans, gorgeous, let alone your figure. You're already looking puffy. Get a move on or we'll have to reschedule the procedure."

Rose nodded. Her fears were confirmed. It wasn't her imagination. He had actually made arrangements for the termination of her pregnancy. She focused on suppressing her quivering hands and tears of fear as she retreated into her own room. She closed the door and locked it. She pulled her mobile off of the charger and went into her bathroom, closed the door, turned on the fan and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She had already programmed John's phone numbers into her mobile and had placed it along with his work and home numbers in speed dial positions one, two and three, respectively. She looked at her watch. She guessed he would still be home, so he pressed and held button number three.

It rang twice before a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?" The American-accented voice didn't belong to John.

"Um, hello... Is John available?" she asked as quietly as she could without whispering, keeping her voice steady.

"Yessiree ma'am...JOHN! THERE'S AN ACTUAL FEMALE ON THE PHONE ASKING FOR YOU. DID HELL FREEZE OVER?" the American voice hollered.

"Jaaaaack..." Rose heard John's clearly irritated voice in the background.

"Hello there...I'm Jack. Jack Harkness. And who would the owner of this lovely sounding voice be?" the man with the name of Jack Harkness asked.

Rose laughed in spite of herself. "I'm Rose, I'm a...I'm a friend of John's."

"Nice to meet you Rose-a-friend-of-John's."

"_Gimme that..."_ There was the sound of a minor scuffle between the two men to gain control of the phone, and then Jack laughing._ "May I have privacy, __please__?" _Rose her John ask next.

"_I was just saying hello..." _ Jack said a bit defensively.

Rose heard the sound of a door closing, and a sigh.

"Good morning Rose Tyler!" The way John said her name made her heart speed up.

"Hi John...I need you." She didn't have time for pleasantries.

"Tell me what you need," he stated, immediately sensing a strain in her voice.

"Saxon is here, and he wants me to have an abortion. I don't even know how he knows I'm pregnant! He is scaring me, John. I think he might do something rash if I say no, and I have no intention of going through with it!"

"I'll be right there. Stall him until I can get there." He cupped his hand over the receiver. "Jack get some clothes on and pull your vehicle around. Now!" He returned his attention to Rose. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Call the police if he threatens you again, alright?"

"Okay..." Rose rang off and flushed the toilet to keep up her ruse. She stayed in the bathroom and a little while longer, but then she truly did start to feel nauseated, and did in fact get sick. Ten minutes later, her stomach had somewhat calmed. She heard her locked bedroom door open, and then Harry walked right into her bathroom.

"On your knees. What an appropriate posture. Penitent?"

"Harry, I'm...I'm really not feeling good. I just got sick. I'm feeling really nauseated." She rubbed her stomach and frowned. "I really need to go lie down." It wasn't a lie.

"Take a pill or something," he said with casual disregard.

"I don't have anything," she said weakly.

"Why haven't you filled that prescription, you stupid woman?" he asked with cool control.

"Prescription?" she asked, eyebrows high. "How do you know I have a prescr-How do you even know I am pregnant?" she asked, now angry.

"I have my ways. You haven't been quite as discreet as you think, Rosie Rose."

"Stop calling me Rosie. Only Pete is allowed to call me Rosie!" she hissed at him.

"I make it my business to know everything there is to know about my talent, _Rosie_, and you are mine. I own you. I have invested myself in you. I have a financial stake in your success. Do you really think I sign just anyone? You have more potential than anyone I have seen come along in a long time. And if you think, for one moment, that I am going to let all of your..." He grabbed her arm and pulled her off of the floor. "...potential just slip through my fingers because you couldn't keep your knees locked and tell that washed up professor John Smith he needed to wear a condom, you are sorely mistaken."

"Own me? No one owns me, _Harold Saxon_! Get the bloody hell out of my flat right now, or I am calling the cops!" she screamed as loudly as she could, hoping that a neighbor heard her. "You are finished! You're fired!"

Harry shook her hard, pulling her close. Rose winced at the strength of his grip on her bicep.

"Let me go Harry, you're hurting me!" she said, with as much strength as she could muster.

He squeezed harder and she shrieked in pain. His hot breath burned her cheek as he put his mouth close to her ear and hissed. "That would be a mistake, Ms. Tyler. I would strongly suggest you reconsider." He pushed her away and let go of her arm. "Rinse your mouth. Your breath stinks of sick." Harry left the bathroom.

There was a knock on the door, and Rose ran out of the bathroom to open it, but before she reached it, the lock rattled and the door flew open abruptly and two men spilled in: John and a tall, handsome man with dark hair and sapphire blue eyes.

John ran up to Rose, who was clutching her stomach protectively leaning against the wall. He pulled her into his side and faced Harry. "I'm John Smith. What have you done to my Rose?"

"Harold K. Saxon. I'm Rose's manager. Oh, I get it! Sneaky girl," he said with a cold grin, shaking a finger at Rose. "You called the baby daddy while you were in the toilet pretending to be sick."

"I wasn't pretending. And why wouldn't I call him? You threatened me, Harry, that's not somethin' a normal, decent person does! You are _not_ going to force me into an abortion. You can't and you won't!"

"I do believe that the lady asked you leave. I could hear her all the way in the stairwell, and several neighbors had their heads poked out of their doors as well. I'm sure that London's finest is on their way," said the handsome, dark haired man. He pulled an illegal firearm out from under his long, dark coat. "Now why don't you go back into whatever hole you crawled out of, you snake."

Harry muttered a curse and left, but not before one final venomous look at Rose.

Rose sank into a side chair and held her head in her hands. John knelt beside her and rubbed her back.

"Rose, are you alright? Did he hurt you?" asked John.

Jack re-holstered his Glock and quietly observed the pair as he leaned on the door, arms crossed.

"He grabbed me. My arm. It's gonna bruise I'm sure." She rubbed her arm, but then John gently pushed her hand away, and he tenderly rubbed. "I'm alright. Well, not alright, but...better." She straightened up and looked at John. "Thanks for coming. I don't really know what I would've done if you hadn't have answered my phone call."

"You would've called the police," said Jack from across the room.

She nodded. "Yeah...I woulda."

"There weren't really any neighbors out there, Rose. I was bluffing. I don't think anyone's home," Jack clarified. "It's lucky we came when we did."

"Now...tell me everything. What did he say?" John asked.

Shakily, Rose recounted the conversation, answering John's frequent questions. Jack pushed himself off of the wall and joined the pair, listening with as much interest as John.

"So who's the spook?" Rose finally asked, nodding towards Jack.

"Spook?" chuckled Jack. "What makes you think I'm a spy?"

"You're tall, dark and handsome, American and have a gun under your coat..." she replied with a hint of a small that quickly disappeared.

"I'm Jack. We spoke on the phone this morning." The flirtatiousness from before was no longer evident. "I hope you don't mind my saying, but that Saxon guy, I don't like him. He's slime."

"Really? Naw, I think he's a prince," she said snidely as she shook her head. "Sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I'm not myself right now." Rose rubbed her forehead.

"Perfectly understandable. I tell you what, why don't you go and take a nice hot shower. We'll wait for you, and then take you out to breakfast. How does that sound?" suggested Jack kindly.

"Sounds good...well, except for the food part." Rose chuckled lamely. "But yeah. I need to get outta here. Thanks." Rose smiled kindly at Jack, though she was clearly still nauseated. She turned to John and hesitantly kissed his cheek from her tiptoes before leaving.

When the door to the bathroom latched and the water started to run, John released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding since her lips touched his cheek. "So aren't you going to ask?" John said quietly, staring straight ahead, avoiding his friend's eyes.

"So, John, who's the gorgeous girl you knocked up and why have you been hiding her? That what you wanted me to ask?"

"Yep. Pretty much the size of it." John said with a slightly amused look on his face.

"She seems to like you," Jack offered. "Do you...like her?"

"Do I like her?" John sighed. "More than like her...I _really_ like her, but I didn't know until about the babe until yesterday. We haven't seen each other since _the morning after_." The words were loaded with meaning. "We had a bit of...a miscommunication as to our intentions on said morning after...and well...both thought that it meant nothing to the other party involved." He smirked and ran his hand through his hair.

Jack nodded. "So what are your plans now? You and Rose? What are you gonna do?" Jack asked.

"We talked a bit last night, and we decided to...oh this sounds ridiculous...we decided to date and get to know one another." He shook his head and laughed at himself. "Dating. The word is so..._inadequate_ for the situation. But no matter what happens, I'm going to..." John blew a puff of our through his lips. "I'm going to do the right thing. I'm going to step up and be a man and...fulfill my responsibilities like a gentleman and...ask her to marry me."

"What?" Jack asked, shocked. "Marriage? You can't be serious, John. You're going to get married? Because she's having your baby? Isn't that a bit...1952?"

"I was brought up a certain way, Jack, and I have bollocks it up twice now. First time, my marriage failed, and ended up divorced from a woman every single one of my friends and family warned me not to marry, and now I have gotten Rose, this sweet, talented, woman, who is nearly half my age no less...pregnant."

"I had no idea you were so old fashioned, Doc." Jack winked at his friend.

John half smiled and shook his head. "Do you have any idea how my mother is going to react to this news?"

Jack laughed at this. It was that sort of sympathetic, _'I wouldn't trade anything to be in your shoes, buddy' _sort of laugh. "Sylvia is going to fillet you alive with her perfectly manicured fingernails."

"Yeah..." drawled John.

"You told me you like her a lot, but John, do you think you could love her?" Jack asked pointedly.

John looked at him earnestly. "Yes. I think I could, and I think maybe she could love me, too. We simply need to give it a chance to happen."

"She's really young, John. You're what, thirty-seven, thirty-eight?"

"No!" he whinged, "I'm thirty-six."

"How old is she?" Jack asked, looking around the flat. There was a big teddy bear wearing a multicolored scarf sitting on the end of the sofa, leaning up against a pink, satin, heart-shaped pillow, a few chick lit paperbacks on the side table and a copy of _British Vogue._

"I'm not sure," John admitted.

"Well at least she's above the age of consent...I'm pretty sure."

John gave Jack a warning look. "Yeah, well, I wasn't particularly worried about her birthday when the sparks started to fly, if you catch my meaning."

"I'd be willing to bet she can't even legally order a drink back where I come from. I don't think she is even twenty-one, Doc."

"You think I don't notice that?" John scrubbed his hand down his face in frustration. "You think people aren't going to talk about the dirty old man who got the international star who is barely out of her teens up the duff? Probably ruining her career in the process? She is already hounded by the tabloids. They're going to crucify her, Jack. And it's my fault! Because I...I couldn't control myself. Because I-"

"Because you acted on your attraction to a damn fine looking woman who seems to be pretty sweet on top of it all? I'm not saying that this isn't a tough spot you're in, but John, you're a good man. And from what I can see, she may be young, but there's something there. Did you see how she stood up to that bastard Saxon? She was terrified, but she didn't back down. Don't underestimate Rose Tyler. I think she's something special. And I think you had better do whatever you can to hold onto her. She's probably the best thing to come into your life since...me!"

John smiled wryly. "Thanks Jack, you're a good friend."

"Hey, what...what do you mean, international star?" Jack shook his head as he asked, finally coming around to something John had said a minute earlier.

"Oh, so I'm not the only one in London who doesn't know her, then? Donna seems to think everyone does. She used to be on some teen comedy in the States, and had a bit of a run off-Broadway. But now she's the star of the hottest ticket in the West End."

"That's where I've seen her before! Those hot adverts on the busses! It's been driving me crazy every since I saw her...she's the naked girl in the flowers! Way to go, John!" Jack slapped John on the back.

"Stop it, Jack," said John, though he did crack a small, proud smile that didn't go unnoticed by Jack.

"She's very talented," John said with conviction. "You should see her on stage. It's like she's...she's a different person. She's brilliant!"

"Really? You think so?" Rose emerged from her bedroom. She sounded a bit unsure of herself. Her hair was still wet, and she had arranged two plaits, one on each side of her head, giving her an even more youthful look than John had thought before.

John looked at her, transfixed by the freshness of her face. She hadn't bothered to apply but the lightest of makeup, just enough to cover the dark circles under her eyes and a bit of lip shine. But then his eyes drifted away from her returned gaze. She was wearing a fitted, short sleeved tee shirt depicting a long-defunct 1980's boy band. It revealed a prominent, hand-shaped mark encircling her left arm. Without wasting another moment, John stood up and went to her, laying a gentle hand on the ugly red evidence of Harry's threats.

"He did this to you. I'm going to..." He stopped short from saying out loud what he wanted to do to the man. His breathing was rapid and words, measured. "Has he ever hurt you before? Even laid a _finger_ on you in any sort of threatening way?"

Rose shook her head before speaking. "No, and he won't ever do it again, either."

"Do you have some kind of an out-clause in your contract?" Jack asked, obviously just as angry as John. "He was very upset about being fired, Rose. He may put up a fight."

"I don't know..." she answered quietly, blushing, embarrassed at her ignorance. "I didn't read it very carefully. Pete, my stepdad, asked me to scan it and email to him so he could go over it before I signed, but I never did. I was just so excited and flattered and...I..." her voice trailed off.

"Every contract has a flaw. Don't worry, Rose." John hugged her, once again reminded of her lack of life experience.

The feeling of his arms around her took her breath away, and it took her mind a moment to catch up, and then she closed her eyes and sank into his comforting embrace, wrapping her own arms around him and resting her cheek against his chest.

"Do you have a copy of it here?" John asked quietly, releasing her.

Rose nodded and retrieved a thick Manila envelope from an upright document organizer on a small desk in the corner of the room, next to the window.

"Good. Breakfast first, then we're going to go show this to Donna."

"Your sister? Why?" Rose asked, curious.

"Best legal executive in Chiswick," John replied proudly. "And she just happens to work for a solicitor who specializes in contracts...who also happens to be her husband and a good friend of mine. Handy, that."

"Very handy. Almost...fate..." Jack interjected with a gleaming smile.

Rose ducked her head and smiled her first, genuine smile in longer than she could remember. It was contagious, and John grinned right back at her. He hooked his arm through hers and led her to the door.

"Oh wait, it's a bit nippy out this morning. Odd, this late in spring. You'll be wanting a jacket. Don't want you getting a chill, now," John said protectively.

"I'll be right back." She disappeared into her bedroom with butterflies in her stomach, and a smile that she simply couldn't stop.

"Dig up everything you can on Saxon," John told Jack quietly.

"Will do, chief." Jack saluted sloppily.

Rose returned wearing a fuchsia track jacket. She picked up her handbag and reached for John's hand. He took it without question.

oOo

Jack pulled his big, black SUV up to the kerb in front of the modest legal office. Breakfast would have to wait. John was sitting in the backseat with Rose. Jack had been amused as, from time to time, he observed the shy stolen glances between the pair.

"Rose, I'm not quite ready to tell my family about...this. I'm not embarrassed, well, I am embarrassed if I am being perfectly honest...I'm sorry about that."

"John, don't be sorry. I'm embarrassed too. We make a pair, don't we? Maybe I'm more old fashioned that I ever thought I was."

"Nothing wrong with old," John teased. "I'm old."

"Couldn't prove it by me." Rose smiled, and the tip of her tongue peeked through her grin.

"I hate to break up your flirting session back there, but are we gonna to go inside or what?"

"Sorry, Jack," Rose replied, not removing her eyes from John's blushing cheeks, as he absolutely understood what she had been referring to. "I won't say a thing, John. For all she knows, we are simply here to get me out of my contract."

oOo

It didn't take long for Donna and Shaun to determine that there was only one way out of her contract: buyout.

"I have some money saved, a good bit, but not _that_ much," Rose said, wide-eyed as she stared at the six digit number on the page.

"You could sandbag," Jack offered. "Get yourself fired from the show. Why would he want to represent someone who wasn't making him any money?"

"And jeopardize everyone else's career? No way." Rose disagreed, vehemently.

"Why not just tell your producer what's going on? That Saxon has threatened you?" Donna offered sympathetically. "Rose, you really do need to go to the police with this, too. He has physically harmed you. Just look at that arm. In fact, I am going to insist as your legal counsel, well not legal counsel because I'm not a solicitor-"

"May as well be," her husband Shaun added proudly. "But I am, and I insist you go get checked out. That's my official legal advice. I am taking your case. No arguments, luv."

Rose turned to John. "John, can we talk for a moment, in private?"

"You can use my office," Shaun offered.

The pair retreated, still holding hands, at which Donna raised an eyebrow. "You two were quick to make up," she offered. "By the way, baby brother, I'm not mad at you about wasting the ticket last night. Well, not anymore. I'd have chosen her over me if I were you, too."

"Thanks Donna."

They entered Shaun's office and closed the door.

"If I go to some random doctor to get checked out, the doctor is gonna know I'm pregnant. No matter what, they always ask if you think you're pregnant. Donna and Shaun are going to find out. And if I go to Dr. Jones, they're gonna see that she's an obstetrician. What do I do? 'Cos Donna's right. I need to file charges against Saxon. He can't just get away with this." She crossed her arms. "I would rather she hear from us than figure it out on her own. I say we tell them about the baby now. Get it over with. Do you want to or, or shall I?"

John scowled, but nodded in agreement. "I trust Donna. But she's got a temper. You may want to put your earplugs in."

Rose pinched her lips to suppress a laugh, but she failed, and it came out in a thoroughly undignified sputter. "Oh, I'll bet she does have a temper! I'll do it. I'll tell her. Maybe she won't yell at the pregnant woman..." she smirked.

"Yeah, don't count on it. Allons-y."

Jack, Donna and Shaun were huddled over the contract, and Shaun was pointing out the brilliance of the legal crafting.

John and Rose poised themselves side by side. They turned and looked at each other. John nodded his encouragement. He grabbed her hand quickly and squeezed.

"Donna, there is something else you need to know, and it's important. I'm...I'm pregnant, and John here-"

"I'm the father, Donna."

"You. Are. Kidding. Me."

* * *

While I had every intention of keeping this story relatively close to the original films (insomuch as that is possible for an author to plug Doctor Who characters into two romantic comedies, LOL), the plot is veering slightly away from Notting Hill and Fools Rush In. This isn't to say that I'm abandoning the movies entirely, simply sticking less close to their plots. However, aliens are not suddenly appearing, John Smith is not really a fobbed Time Lord named the Doctor, and Rose Tyler is not experiencing some bizarre virtual reality pregnancy. They are still humans. This is AU. This is AU. This is AU.


	5. Chapter 5

__**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 5**

_John and Rose poised themselves side by side. They turned and and looked at each other. John nodded his encouragement._

_"Donna, there is something else you need to know, and it's important. I'm...I'm pregnant, and John here-"_

_"I'm the father, Donna."_

_"You. Are. Kidding. Me." _

"I'm afraid not," John said quietly as he clung to Rose's hand.

"That's the real reason I need out of the contract, uh...Mrs. Temple." Rose's stomach was doing flips. She vaguely remembered calling her Donna before, that day in John's shop which seemed so long ago now, but this was not the time to presume.

Donna finally came out of her state of stunned, mouth-agape, frozen, silence. "Donna. Call me Donna." Her request came out in a hitching whisper. "You are carrying my niece or nephew after all." She blinked, and then spoke a bit stronger. "Would be a bit _impersonal_ not to," she said staring at John. A subtle sting had developed in her voice, though it was not directed at Rose. Her bosom heaved as her ire increased. She raised a finger and began to let into John. "And as for you, you...you...skinny strip of nothin'-"

Rose interrupted. "Before you get angry at John, please let me finish, alright?" She paused. "Please?" She paused again and then got right to the point. "John didn't even know I was pregnant 'til last night, and if alla ya hadn'ta come ta the show, I don't know that I ever woulda told him...an' I'm so ashamed 'bout that." Rose's lip quivered as she slipped deep into her childhood accent.

"You wouldn't have told me?" John asked. He swallowed hard, and he wrinkled his forehead, clearly upset by this revelation.

She squeezed tears from her eyes, and her voice hitched as she saw the broken look on John's face. "I _really truly_ thought what we did...that it meant nothin' ta ya'. An' it _did_ mean something, John." She barely choked out the words. "Course as soon as I told Mum - if I ever get up the nerve, even _she_ doesn't know..." Rose hastily wiped the tears from her eyes with her pointer fingers. "Mum woulda hunted ya down an' slapped ya inta next year, and then hugged ya, so ya woulda found out the hard way." She sputtered a quiet, watery laugh. Donna handed her a tissue, and Rose quietly blew her nose and strengthened herself to continue her explanation.

"So...we were drunk, and I didn't tell John that I wasn't usin' any sort of birth control. Harry had told me I had ta go offa The Pill 'cos he said it was makin' me gain weight."

"_He_ told _you _to stop taking a prescription medication? What is he, a doctor? Isn't that something that should be discussed with your physician?" Donna was incensed.

"Yeah, you're right Donna. I was stupid enough ta listen ta him. Besides, it wasn't like I had a boyfriend. Haven't been involved with anyone in a _long_ time," Rose admitted with a sigh.

"But what about all those blokes the paparazzi catch you with? I just assumed you..." Donna shook her head, amazed.

"Yeah, everyone just assumes that about me. Thing is, those dates were all setups...Saxon arranged 'em all. He even told me who to snog. Said it was no different than acting, that I should view my life as one big performance from now on. But then I started conveniently forgetting to show up. He _really_ didn't like that."

"I sort of thought that about you too, to be honest." John nervously tugged his ear. "I did a bit of Googling. Saw all those foxy men you were kissing outside of clubs..."

"You Googled me?" Rose asked, biting her lower lip shyly.

"Yeah," he smiled shyly and made a pleased little sound in the back of his throat, but his smile faded. "It's why I never tried to see you again. I was rather convinced...the evidence wasn't really in favor of us forming any sort of long-term attachment."

Donna nodded silently as she ruminated on the facts. "Okay. So I get why you just found out, John, but the thing is..." Her voice rose in volume. "I thought _you_, of _all people_, would have been more cautious about _this_. You've been so careful about your personal life. Haven't even been on one...single...date since _that horrible woman_ left you until Rose here came alone. Don't get me wrong, thank _heaven_ Renee is gone!" Donna spat. "But you've been so closed off since then that you have driven...me...bonkers! And then you go and do...do...this? This isn't you, John! This isn't simply a mistake, this is...this is _big_. This is life changing big. This will rock your world. Both of your worlds."

"You think I don't know understand the ramifications? That I don't feel...guilty for doing this to Rose? To her career? Donna, you can be so...so condescending." John pointed at her, shouting.

Donna whacked the side of his head.

"Ow!" whinged John, rubbing the sore spot.

"Stop! Just stop!" Rose put herself between the siblings. "The last thing we need right now is for the two of you to get in each others' faces! Now let's all just...just calm down and we'll discuss this all calm-like, 'kay? Donna, there is more that you and Shaun need to know about Saxon. That's why we're here, yeah? To get me out of my contract as soon as possible? So Donna, John...can the both of you please just save this conversation for later?" She sniffed, the last of her tears cleared away by taking her mind off of her own situation.

"Fine!" Donna said angrily as she backed away and sat back down.

Rose breathed in and out a few times to calm herself. "So, somehow Saxon found out I'm pregnant. He came to my flat this morning and told me that he was taking me to an..." she cleared her throat, "...an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he'd taken it upon himself to arrange to have my pregnancy terminated."

"He what?" Donna said, shocked. "How...how does that even work? How can a man make an appointment for a pregnant woman to..." Donna shook her head in bemusement. "What did he do? Disguise his voice? Dress in drag?"

Rose chuckled, and shook her head. "I dunno. I wouldn't put it past him to have used my name and disguised his voice. And he's really connected. Maybe he paid someone off. He's always throwing money at people to do stuff for him. But there's something else. John doesn't even know this bit."

John straightened up and steeled himself.

"Right before I met John, I received a really weird letter. The woman who sent it claimed to be Saxon's ex-wife. I did confirm it that yeah, he was married to this woman and that yeah, now she's in Broadfell Prison for attemptin' to murder Harry. This woman, this Lucy Cole, warned me about him. Said that he would eventually do something bad like he did to her. She didn't say what he did ta her, though."

"Did you tell the police about the letter?" John asked.

"I...I forgot about it," she said, lamely, shaking her head. "I've been so forgetful lately. I read in my pregnancy book that bein' forgetful is..." She shook her head again. "Never mind. That's not important."

"Shaun, let's get a coffee or something, let these three talk," Jack suddenly interrupted.

"No!" Rose said firmly. "I mean, no," she said, less abruptly the second time. "You're his family Shaun, and Jack, I don't know who you are, but obviously, you're a good enough mate that he brought ya with him this morning when I called him for help. So if it's all the same to you, John, I'd like them to stay."

John nodded. "But why don't we go someplace more comfortable? No offense, Donna, but these chairs are rubbish," he said rudely.

"Shut it, you," said Donna quietly. "Was all we could afford at the time. Let's go upstairs."

oOo

Donna and Shaun lived in a modest but homely flat above their legal office. John and Rose sat next to each other on the worn, but comfortable, love seat. Donna handed out mugs of tea. Once they were settled, Donna re-started the conversation.

"So John didn't know until last night..." Donna prompted as she leaned forward, anxious to hear the rest.

Rose nodded. "Saxon had come into my room and told me that the movie he's been negotiating for me ta be in was a go, and I lost it. I panicked and...got sick...and..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

"That's why I couldn't finish my performance last night...I got so sick during the intermission. I was so surprised to even see the lot of you up in those seats...and I was _so_ happy to see _you_..." Rose cracked a small smile for John.

"How long _exactly_ have you known, Rose?" The sad disappointment in Donna's voice threatened to force fresh tears from Rose's eyes.

"I've known about a month," she replied, ashamed. "Sarah Jane, my dresser, she's the one who figured it out before I was even willin' ta admit it to myself. She convinced me ta do the test. We've kept the secret to ourselves up 'til now." Rose cleared her throat. "And ta think, if you hadn'ta been at the show last night...we wouldn't be here together now...and I'd still be pressed under Saxon's thumb...and I don't know that I woulda been brave enough ta stand up ta Harry this morning'...and that...that terrifies me." Rose shook her head, wide eyed.

"You know what I think?" Jack interrupted. "I think you _would_ have stood up to Saxon all on your own. Don't doubt yourself for a minute, Rosie. You are braver than you think. I can tell...and I am very good at reading people. It's part of my job after all...reading people's intentions..."

"Thanks, Jack...I don't know that I believe you...but thanks..."

John boldly put his arm around Rose's shoulder's and pulled her close, and Rose responded just as boldly, laying her head on his shoulder and turning towards him, wrapping her arm around him, slightly more than a half-hug.

"John, I am so sorry I kept this from you. Even if there was that stupid misunderstandin', it was wrong and selfish to not tell you at least, and I want everyone here to know just how sorry I am. Forgive me? Please?"

John pressed his lips together and nodded fiercely. "Yes." He hugged her properly and planted a kiss in her hair. He moved his mouth to her ear. The next part was for her to hear alone. "And I'm sorry that I made you think it was just a shag. I should have pressed the issue, because I _really_ didn't want you to leave thinking that it was nothing."

"You didn't?" she asked out loud, with hope in her eyes.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head. "I didn't."

"You two are so cute. Really. But you forgot we were here, didn't you?" Jack laughed, looking at the ceiling.

Rose and John both laughed and hugged each other again.

Shaun had been quiet during the conversation, simply listening and observing. He finally spoke up. "Rose, I can help you with the contract, but you are going to have to go to the police with the very serious accusations right away. Only the police can deal with his threats."

Rose hands started to shake as she reached for her mobile.

"Oh come here, you sweet thing." Donna stood up, took the phone from Rose's hands and set it down on the coffee table. She pulled Rose off of the sofa and into a hug. "It'll be alright. I know you are nervous. Don't be. And don't worry, I don't hate you or anything. You're as good as family now, you are." She released the young girl. "I don't hate Spaceman either, I'm just...mad at him. Well...not _too_ mad. Just a little bit mad."

"But Donna's _little bit mad_ is like everyone else's _furious_," John said with a bit of humor in his voice.

"And don't you forget it, Sonny Jim," Donna said with a half smile.

"We'll figure this out, the five of us," said Jack. "Just look around you, Rosie!" Jack motioned broadly.

Rose furrowed her brow at the nickname. He'd called her 'Rosie' twice now, but she didn't protest. Hearing Jack call her Rosie somehow felt right.

Jack continued. "You have your very own legal team. And you've got John, and believe me, you're stuck with him. He is as loyal as they come."

Rose blushed at this, very pleased to hear this.

"And then finally, you have me!"

"And what's your part in this?" Donna asked Jack, facetiously.

"I'm the muscle," said Jack with a Hollywood smile.

"What _do_ you do anyway? I don't know anything about you, except you answered the phone at John's house this morning," Rose asked.

"John and I are best friends, and I'm between places right now."

"More like between beds..." Donna said under her breath. "Bit of a player, this one."

"My flat was torched, burned to the ground. While I'm looking for someplace permanent, John said I could crash in his spare room. And I'm not a player Rose, I'm just very..._friendly_."

"That's one way to describe it," Donna snorted.

"But what do you do for a job, Jack? You have a..._you know what_," she motioned with her head and subtly made a gun with her finger and thumb.

"Oh, that old thing? Isn't even loaded," he lied.

John rolled his eyes.

"Come on, tell me. I need to know," Rose pressed, clearly not ready to give up until she knew. She looked around the room and the others all had unreadable looks on their faces. "Listen, if I'm gonna trust you Jack, I need to know more about the person I'm trustin'."

"I'm with the US Foreign Service, and work at the American Embassy."

"You _are_ a spook, aren't you?" Rose said with teasing humor in her voice.

"No, I'm not a spy, but I do look fantastic in a tux," Jack said, winking. "I'm an intelligence analyst," he explained vaguely.

"I'm not sure why I should, but I trust you." She laughed, and then frowned. "You know what? I'm hungry now. Do you have anything around here to nibble on, Donna?"

"Sure, love." Donna went into the kitchen and returned with a half-empty bag of crisps.

John snatched them out of Donna's hand before Rose could take them. "No, no, no. She needs something healthy. There's a one hundred percent organic, ethically grown, sustainably sourced, natural restaurant down the street. I am sure they are still serving breakfast. We'll get you a nice omelette made of eggs from free range hens. Good source of protein, eggs are. They've been given quite the bad reputation, undeservedly."

"Come on, we're buying," Shaun offered.

"How much _did_ you win in that lottery, Donna?" John asked.

"One hundred thousand!" she replied happily.

"The way you were talking, I thought you'd been made an instant millionaire," John frowned.

"Well, it's enough to pay off our debts and set some aside for later."

Shaun locked up the flat and they began their walk to the restaurant, a few blocks away.

oOo

The waitress smiled shyly, obviously recognizing Rose as she approached the table. She awkwardly offered a compliment. "I really like that _Sandman_ song you sang a while back, Miss Tyler."

Rose smiled kindly. "Thanks, I like that one too."

"What can I get for you?" asked the waitress.

"I can't decide...it all looks so good," Rose smiled as she perused the menu.

Donna ordered first, followed by Shaun, Jack, and John.

"And you Miss Tyler? Have you decided?" the waitress asked.

She nodded. "I'll have the whole grain waffle with an order of the chicken-apple sausages, please."

"Rose, don't you think that an omelette would be healthier than a waffle?" John asked.

"But it's whole grain...and I'm cravin' 'it. Sounds good."

"Are the sausages nitrite free?" John asked the waitress.

"Yes, sir, and the chickens are organically fed, free range, humanely slaughtered and we have the sausages made daily by a local butcher."

"Alright then, Rose will have the sausages and the three egg omelette with..." John stopped, when he noticed Rose looking at him with an odd look on her face. "Rose, why don't you order. Sorry. I got a bit carried away, didn't I?"

"Yeah, just a bit," she laughed and shook her head. "I'll have...I'll have the chicken sausage and the red pepper, herb and parmesan omelette please, and a glass of orange juice." She turned and smiled at John, and laughed, and soon John was laughing as well.

Rose reminded herself that John actually cared, whereas Harry's motivation for controlling her diet was completely self-serving. "I have _got_ to tell you about the time that Harry threw my plate of chips on the floor. You're not gonna believe this..."

oOo

After an hour of getting to know one another more casually, the conversation dwindled. Rose excused herself to go to the toilet. As soon as she had reached the loo, her mobile rang. She answered, even though she didn't recognize the phone number.

"Hello Rosie. Miss me yet?" It was Harry Saxon.

"Good bye Harry."

"I have already arranged for you to have the rest of the week off. I could see this morning that you are tired. I've been pushing you too hard, haven't I? So I called the producer and Astrid has graciously agreed to cover for you through Friday."

"How can you just talk to me like this morning didn't happen?" Rose hissed.

"_Wildflowers_ looks like a lovely restaurant. How was breakie?" he said, ignoring her question.

"How do you know where I am? You followin' me, you creeper!"

"Don't think so highly of yourself. I'm too busy to follow you around, but I do have my eye on you, and no, that sweet young waitress isn't one of my many sources of information. And since it is clear you aren't going to agree to get rid of that nuisance in your uterus, I have a proposal for you."

"Just tell me what you want to be rid of you, Harold."

"We'll chat more about that later. In the meantime, brace yourself Rosie Rose. Your life is about to become a living hell." He rang off.

Rose threw her phone at the wall, and the pink shell popped off. "Oh no, oh no, oh no," she whimpered to herself and sank to the floor, curled up in a ball, leaning up against a mural of hand painted wildflowers. She dropped her head onto her knees and wept.

An unknown amount of time passed before Rose startled to the sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Rose? Are you alright? You've been in there for over twenty minutes." It was John.

"Just a minute...I'll be just...a minute." Rose sniffed, stood up, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her nose was red, and her eyes were puffy.

"Rose...what's wrong?" John put his hands on her shoulders and examined her.

The earnestness in his eyes started her tears up again, and she didn't answer.

"Rose...I don't know quite how to read you like a book..._yet_, but even I can tell you are very, very upset."

She couldn't find the words in the midst of her fear.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," he encouraged, voice quiet and kind.

He saw the phone on the floor. He bent over and picked it up. Given the force of the throw, not surprisingly it was broken. He connected the obvious dots. "Did _he_ call you? Upset you?"

She nodded, hugging herself.

"We are all going to the police right now. Jack and I are witnesses, and Shaun is now your legal representative, and-"

Rose threw herself into John's arms, and more than willingly, he comforted her.

oOo

"Rose Tyler!" A voice called from half a block behind the group as they walked back to the Noble's office from the restaurant.

Rose turned around and a group of half a dozen paparazzi started taking pictures. John jumped in front of Rose, shielding her from the most aggressive paparazzo in the group.

"Oi! Get out of our faces!" shouted Donna.

Jack ducked into a news agent, not wanting to be see himself in the newspapers the next morning. He knew his boss, Gwen Cooper, wouldn't like it much, either.

Shaun stepped forward. "I am Ms. Tyler's attorney, and unless you stop immediately, I will be requesting restraining orders be placed on each and every one of you."

"Rose, how are you feeling?" The questions were fired rapidly. "How far along are you?" "You plan on quitting the show?" "Have you told the father?" "Is your manager the baby daddy?" "Are you going to take Harry Saxon's name when you marry him?" "John Smith, do you have a statement?"

"No comment." She pulled John to her side, and held his hand. She spun on her heels and pulled him along. The rest of the group followed, save Jack, who remained hunkered down in the shop, chatting up the pretty shop girl.

oOo

Toc LaFan dropped a stack of photos on Harry's mahogany desk. "It's becoming more obvious now. If you look at the photo from the bookshop ten weeks ago, and compare it to this picture I snapped early this morning..."

Harry carefully examined the photos.

"See? Her face is rounder, and her chest is definitely bigger. And I don't think it will be difficult to convince anyone that Smith is the father. Look at the way they're holding onto each other."

Harold Saxon was pleased with his lackey. "So who did you tip off that they were at that restaurant?"

"Oh, the usual suspects. The story should going to be online any time now, and in the next print edition of every newspaper and celebrity magazine."

"I _do_ _love_ the Internet!" Saxon growled. "Do you have the copies of the pregnancy test results?"

"Right here." Toc pulled the photocopies of the documents from his aluminum briefcase.

"Send copies of the photos and the reports by courier to the producers of the show, to Smith's family and the illustrious Tylers of Malibu. Correction. Scan the document and send digital copies of the photos to your contact out in LA to expedite the delivery of the happy news to Mummy. And you've located the ex-wife?"

"I have. And she is more than happy to cooperate...for the right price."

"Woman after my own heart. How much did she ask for?"

"Nothing more than we've given other willing participants," Toc said casually.

"Get cash and set up a meeting for tomorrow. I want to meet this Renee Fisher in person."

oOo

John and Rose sat quietly in the back seat of the taxi. Breaking the news to John and Rose's parents had become top priority, given the paparazzi's sneak attack. Rose had been relieved that Toc LaFan had not been a part of the mob. After the in-person visit to Sylvia Noble, it was agreed that Rose would call her mother, with whom she had not spoken for over a month. They had emailed. It was much easier for Rose to keep up the facade that her life was completely fantastic using impersonal electronic communication.

Secretly, John wished his grandfather would be home alone. He wanted to be able to tell him first, to introduce Rose, to explain the situation to the calm, reasonable man. John had already warned Rose that his mother, Sylvia Noble, was volatile, quick to anger, often judgmental, and could be verbally cutting.

The car stopped and John paid the fare. Once standing on the pavement, the pair held hands and stared at the front door of the suburban London attached home.

"Ready for this?" John asked and then he swallowed hard. He rubbed his neck with his free hand and looked up at the sky, letting out a held breath.

"No time like the present," Rose answered with false confidence.

They approached the home, but before they had even passed the point halfway between the pavement and front door, the door flew open. A seething bleached blonde woman stood in the doorway.

"Hello Mum," John said with a nervous smile.

"Don't you dare _hello Mum_ me, Jonathan Theodore Smith. Is this her? The girl you knocked up? That Rose Tyler tramp?" The woman was shaking a Manila envelope at arm's length.

John turned his head heavenward. "And here we go..." He scrubbed his hand down his face.

"Yes, I'm Rose." She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to reply in kind to the woman.

"Go on! Spit it out! Tell me what want. _He_ doesn't have much of anything," she said, looking at her son with disdain, "and neither do I, not the sort of money _you're_ used to! What do you want to keep quiet about the pregnancy?" Sylvia said, arms crossed.

"Mother, if you are so worried about keeping the pregnancy quiet, why are you shouting about it from your doorway?" John stated calmly, his hand in his pocket.

"_You_ keep out of this! This concerns us _women_!" Sylvia looked at Rose venomously.

"I disagree Mrs. Noble," Rose countered. "John has everything to do with this, and I don't want _anything _except your emotional support if you are willing ta give it. I certainly don't need your money."

"My money's not good enough for you, then, hmm? Sure thing you've got enough of your own, you being one of those...entertainment people!"

John's voice remained calm, though his body was exhibiting signs of imminent fury. "May we come in?

"Go on inside, then..." Sylvia said with a smirk.

"Johnny!" Wilfred Mott, John's grandfather moved across the lounge with quickness that belied his age. "Oh, is this her? Is this my new granddaughter?"

"We're not...married, Granddad," John replied.

"Oh, well. I guess that's the modern way. Last time I saw you Johnny, you were running out of the theatre box to catch this here little bird. Looks like you caught her alright," he said with a twinkle in his eye and a wink at Rose, to whom he extended his hand. "I'm Johnny's granddad, Wilfred. Most people call me Wilf, but you can call me Granddad if you'd like. Whichever..."

"Thanks." Rose smiled in spite of her nervousness. She was unsure which name she would choose.

"What's in the envelope, Mother?" John asked, looking around the room, avoiding his mother's eyes.

"You want to see what's in the envelope? This! This came by courier not fifteen minutes ago! My son! My only son! You...you...how could you?" she whimpered angrily. "What are my friends going to think about me? What about the garden club ladies? And the members of the Women's Institute? Now I'm going to be known as the one with the son whose wife ran off and then knocked up the actress who was half his age!"

"Look on the bright side, Mother. Now you can give a talk on how to raise sons who are disappointments at your next WI meeting. I will even make an appearance to lend an air of authenticity to your presentation." John crossed his arms angrily.

"Mrs. Noble, may I see what is in the envelope?" Rose asked nervously.

"At least someone is taking this seriously," Sylvia said haughtily, handing the envelope to Rose.

Rose pulled out a printout of her medical record. It was dated the previous Friday, the date of her last exam. There was a picture of the sonogram as well, the same picture that was on her refrigerator at home. Finally, she pulled out the photographs: one was the photo that had been taken by Toc LaFan in John's book shop the day they met. The other had been taken _before_ they went into the restaurant this morning, _before_ the confrontation with the paparazzi.

"Who delivered these, ma'am?" asked Rose.

"She has manners. That's something." Sylvia said. "A young man on a motorbike. Professional courier service."

"LaFan took the first picture, John. Remember? The day we met?" Rose passed both of the photographs to him. "He never published this particular picture."

"And this second one...it's obviously from this morning, but it couldn't have been taken by the paparazzi when they ambushed you. Look, you're smiling, and we are walking _towards_ the restaurant. I bet he tipped off the others. But why would he do that? Why wouldn't he have been there himself?" John stared out the window with a profound look of confusion on his face. "And he isn't asking for anything is he? This isn't blackmail, Rose."

"No. It isn't blackmail. And I don't think this is LaFan's doin'. This is Harry, and I'd be willin' ta bet you ten quid that LaFan works for him...that he ain't a normal paparazzo. Harry's is trying to manipulate me. It's already starting...he warned me..." Rose drew in a ragged breath and shook her head and then looked at John. "Harry is going to hurt the people...hurt the people I care about to get to me."

The revelation that Rose cared about him caught John off guard, but pleased him immensely. "Rose, what exactly did Saxon say to you when he called this morning?"

"He told me he was going to make my life a living hell. That he had a proposal for me since I refused to end the pregnancy, but he wouldn't tell me what that was." She drew in a quick breath and covered her face with her hands. "He's going to deliver these to the producers of the show and my Mum. I just know it. I have to call her, John. She can't find out this way!"

"Who's Saxon? Who's The Fan?" Sylvia asked, nervously.

"Tell us, Johnny!" Wilf added.

John pulled out his mobile, ignoring their questions. He knew she would need his, now that hers was broken, discarded somewhere in the bottom of her handbag.

"Mrs. Noble, I know you aren't too keen on me right now, but I do need to make a phone call and I'd like to make it in private if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, the guest room, John's old room, is down the hall, second door on the right."

"Thanks."

"Want me there with you?" John asked kindly.

"Why don't you stay here and explain Harry and LaFan ta your Mum, John?" she replied, laying a hand on his arm.

John nodded. Rose looked over his shoulder and saw a small change in Sylvia's demeanor, possibly for the better. Rose gave her a small, but genuine smile, and hastily made her way to John's childhood bedroom. She guessed the room hadn't been changed much since he left home in his teens. A mobile of the solar system drifted lazily in one corner. Photographs of stars, constellations, telescopes and giant satellite dishes in foreign deserts were tacked to the walls. An antique globe, brown with age, sat on his desk.

Rose sat on the bed and pulled together the courage to dial her mother. She punched in the numbers and waited for her to answer.

"Hello?"

"Mum? It's me. Rose."

"I didn't recognize the number, but I'm so glad I answered! Saw it was a London number or else I woulda just ignored it. Been gettin' so many wrong number calls lately. Bloody nuisance they are. So good to hear your voice, Swee'hear'!"

"I'm borrowin' a mobile 'cos I...dropped mine this mornin'. Um, Mum, there's somethin' I need ta tell ya, and I...well...I'll just come out and say it before I lose my nerve."

"Oh, just a mo, there's someone at the door. How'd they get past the security gate? I didn't ring no one through."

"Wait Mum. Please. Don't get the door. I really have to tell you this. It's important."

"Well go on then, if you think it's that important..."

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

So the ante has been upped. Poor Rose. Poor John. Thanks to my betas!


	6. Chapter 6

**My Fair Rose  
****Chapter 6**

**Author's Note: **This chapter again mentions abortion, though not in detail, and only in passing.

_Rose sat on the bed and pulled together the courage to dial her mother. She punched in the numbers and waited for her to answer._

_"Hello?"_

_"Mum? It's me. Rose."_

_"I didn't recognize the number, but I'm so glad I answered! Saw it was a London number or else I woulda just ignored it. Been gettin' so many wrong number calls lately. Bloody nuisance they are. So good to hear your voice, Swee'hear'!"_

_"I'm borrowin' a mobile 'cos I...dropped mine this mornin'. Um, Mum, there's somethin' I need ta tell ya, and I...well...I'll just come out and say it before I lose my nerve."_

_"Oh, just a mo, there's someone at the door. How'd they get past the security gate? I didn't ring no one through."_

_"Wait Mum. Please. Don't get the door. I really have to tell you this. It's important."_

_"Well go on then, if you think it's that important..."_

_"I'm pregnant."_

The line crackled and popped in Rose's ear.

"Come again? You startled me outta my really gorgeous dream. Pierce Brosnan was rubbin' my feet." Jackie laughed groggily.

"I'm pregnant, Mum."

"Rose, do you know what time it is here?"

"Uh, oh. I'm sorry Mum. Yeah...I sorta forgot about...that...time difference...thing...I'm outta sorts." Rose laughed nervously.

"It is four bloody forty-six in the morning!" screeched Jackie.

Rose heard rustling in the background. "Pete love, tell me I'm havin' some sort of nightmare. Is there really a bloke knockin' on our door? Am I on the telephone with me daughter?"

Pete grunted, and peeled his eyes open to look at the video monitor on his bedside table. There was indeed a tired looking young man in a polo shirt with a corporate logo on the chest waited impatiently at the door. "Not a dream," Pete muttered, sinking back into his pillow.

Jackie was now fully awake. She thrust the phone at Pete and hurled herself out of bed. "You talk to 'er, I'm gonna see who in the bloody hell as at the bloody door at quarter to bloody five in the morning and then I'm gonna make a cuppa!" she hissed. Jackie grabbed her champagne-colored silk dressing gown that was draped over the chaise lounge and shoved her hands through the sleeves before tying the sash with a violent jerk. "Feel free to disinherit her, Pete."

"Mum! I need you to just listen!" Rose hollered in frustration into John's mobile, but Jackie had already abandoned the telephone to Pete.

"What's got your mum so cheesed off?" Pete's voice was raspy and thick.

"Oh Pete..." Rose signed, and slumped her shoulders. "Where do I start. Before you yell, just let me get it all out, alright? And I wouldn't blame you one bit for yelling at me...or disinheriting me either."

"As if I'd ever do that... Go on Rosie, why don't you tell me what the problem is." Pete sat up on the edge of the bed, his mind now fully awake and prepared for the worst. His experience with Rose had been brief, but he had never observed her to be one for dramatics.

"I'm pregnant Pete, and...and my manager, rather my ex-manager is-"

"Aww, hell Rose, don't tell me Harold Saxon is the father!" Pete said, suddenly angry.

"Oh, gawd, no! I was gonna say that Harry is _threatening_ me. No...the father...his name is John. John Smith. He owns a book shop in Notting Hill. Used to be a professor of geography and astronomy. He's got a couple of doctorates even."

"Hold on, hold on, go back Rose. Did you say Harold Saxon is _threatening_ you?"

Rose's voice quivered as she remembered the events of this morning. "Yeah. He changed Pete. About a month after I signed with him, he started makin' weird demands of me. I sort of ignored it, thought he was just aggressively managing my career, and he negotiated a raise for me, so I figured whatever he was doin', it was working. And really, nothin' he was tellin' me to do was really bad."

"Like what?"

Rose recounted the incident at the fish and chipper, when he made it clear she was no longer permitted to eat chips. She told of the arranged photo opportunities, kissing the men he had arranged a dates for the paparazzi. Finally she told him about the photo shoot, nude, immersed in flowers, which became the racy and very successfull advertising campaign for _My Fair Lady_.

"No wonder you never sent any of the marketing materials for the show to your mum. She knows you know, about the starkers flower photos. Was none to happy about that, but chalked it up to the edgy modern staging."

"Yeah, well...I wasn't too happy about it either, but I went along with it...figured it was part of growin' up in show biz. That's what Harry said anyway...said it was time I stopped bein' a child."

"Rose, why didn't you ever tell us any of this?" Pete sounded hurt. Rose didn't reply, but Pete could hear sniffing on her end.

"Um... anyway..." she re-composed herself. "You see, I got sick last night during intermission, and had to leave the show early. My understudy took over and...John...happened to be in the audience. Lucky that...or fate maybe."

"There are no coincidences, Rosie."

Rose smiled and nodded with her eyes closed. "I don't think there are either, Pete." She cleared her throat. "So John came backstage and...took me home. He...uh...we...hadn't seen each other since...that time and uh...we actually talked. We were both drunk the first time, Pete. How stupid is that?" She laughed sardonically at herself. "Like a coupla teenagers..."

"He didn't take advantage of you did he?" Pete asked with paternal concern.

"No! No...not at all. I didn't tell you how we met in the first place, did I?" Rose recapped the escape from Toc LaFan and how John hid her, and subsequently stood up to the sleezy paparazzo. "We just...immediately liked each other, you know? He is really, really brilliant, Pete. I liked him very much, right from the start. We went for a bite to eat after the Toc thing happened, talked, danced...drank...for several hours."

Rose shook her head, surprised that she was telling all of this to Pete. It was the most emotionally open she had ever been with him.

"If you liked each other so much, why'd you ignore each other for so long?"

"We had a stupid misunderstandin', and both of us were too stubborn to call the other one, but both of us wanted to see each other again, but I was too afraid to tell him, so I never called him, and he never called me because he thought I was this cold...celebrity thanks to the tabloids...

"But I need to tell you what Harry did this morning. He figured out I was pregnant last night, or...rather, had me followed and found out I was pregnant. I think he's been having me followed for months now...I didn't put two and two together until today. Toc LeFan always knows where I am, and I am pretty sure Harry's been tippin' him off, or Harry might even be payin' him. So this mornin', Harry came to my flat and confronted me about the baby and...he tried to force me to get an abortion. Said he'd made an appointment for me and everything. He knew about the pregnancy, Pete. He knew..." Her thoughts were non-linear, scattered.

"How does John feel about it? About the baby?" Pete asked.

"He has been...supportive, uh...protective...he's been fantastic, to be honest."

"Do you love him, Rose? Stupid question, sorry. You only knew him for what? A few hours before, well, you know." He closed his eyes and pinched his temples between his middle finger and thumb.

"I...I don't know him enough to answer that," Rose answered quietly. "But I think...no, I _know_ that I like him very, very much and if we give ourselves time...then yeah, I think it would happen."

"What about him? How does he feel about you?"

"Why you asking me all of these questions Pete? Why aren't you yelling at me?" she asked quietly. "I'd be yelling at my daughter...if she'd gone and gotten herself pregnant the way I did."

"Well, maybe...maybe because I feel a bit of kinship with you, Rosie. When I was in university, I got a girl pregnant. Now your mum knows all about this, so it isn't some deep, dark secret. The girl didn't tell me, but of course it got back to me through a mutual friend." He paused briefly. "She had ended it without ever telling me. I had no say in the matter. I was kept out and I was so, so angry. I felt absolutely betrayed."

"I'm so sorry Pete." Rose cleared her throat nervously. "I hadn't planned on telling him about the baby, and I'm so ashamed of that, but I never contemplated ending it...I just couldn't..."

"Did you tell him you were going to keep this secret? Never tell him about it?"

"Yeah."

"Good. He knows. Water under the bridge, Rosie, so don't beat yourself up over it." His intentions were pure but both of them knew life was much more complex than that.

"No it ain't...it ain't water under the bridge. How can he possibly forgive me?" Rose rebutted.

"You said you were sorry?"

"Yes, and he seemed to have accepted my apology."

"Rose, if he accepted your apology then don't second guess him! Give him the benefit of the doubt."

Rose tightly squeezed her eyes shut, still feeling heavily burdened with guilt. "There's more, Pete."

"What? You having twins?" he asked with a quiet chuckle.

Rose smiled silently, and there was a lightness to her voice for a moment. "No, nothing like that." Seriousness returned. "I fired him. I fired Harry but I didn't read the contract careful enough and...the only way out is buyout."

"How much?"

"I don't wanna say."

"How much?" he asked again, slower and more firmly this time.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand," she whispered.

Pete sighed and rubbed his face, exasperated, but didn't comment on his step-daughter's naiveté. "There's more isn't there?"

"Yeah," she drawled. "He's also threatened me. Told me he's going to make my life a living hell because I wouldn't go along with him and terminate the pregnancy. He's already told John's mum about the baby, even before we could get to her. I'm callin' from John's childhood bedroom, in fact."

Rose looked around the room once again, and her eyes settled onto the gentle movements of the mobile in the corner of the room. Venus was rotating around the sun faster than the other planets. "I don't know who else woulda done it. There wasn't any blackmail demand, seems like it was done out of spite. He sent Mrs. Noble, that's John's mum, a packet with pictures and the chart note from my doctor from my most recent exam...and a sonogram picture from Friday. See? He must've paid off someone at the clinic."

"Blimey, he's a snake."

"I was so stupid, Pete!" Rose exclaimed. "I shoulda have ya go over the contract before I signed," Rose sighed into the phone. It seemed like the millionth time that she had beaten herself up for her foolish actions.

"And I should have offered to be your manager before you went to London. I was afraid to mix family and business, Rose...your Mum and I were so new, and I didn't know you all that well and..."

"Thanks, Pete. I...I have hired a new manager already."

"Who?" he asked, trying not to show the slight hurt in his voice.

"Donna Noble-Temple, John's sister. Her husband's a solicitor who specializes in contracts."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get on a conference call with them."

"That should be okay," Rose replied.

"Now don't worry about this any more, we'll get you out of it sweetheart - between me and Donna and her husband - we'll figure it out. Last thing you need right now is to get your blood pressure up worrying about a contract."

"Gimme that phone!" Jackie Tyler's angry voice bristled as she stormed back into the bedroom, waving an unopened manila envelope.

"Jacks, I think you need to hear her out before you jump to any conclusions."

"I'll bloody well decide what I bloody well will and won't do, Peter Tyler!"

Rose heard crackling and popping as the telephone receiver changed hands.

"Rose Marion Tyler... How could you?"

"I-"

"It's that tosser James Stone innit? He's the father? You promised Rose! You promised you'd never get back with him. How could you?"

"It wasn't Jimmy, Mum."

"Then who? Mickey?"

"No! And if you'll just let me talk... Listen, it was...it was a mistake...it just _happened_..."

"Of course it just happened! That's how it usually does! Aren't you on The Pill?"

"I...I..."

"You weren't, were you? Why'd ya go off of it? 'Cos you were gainin' weight? You've gotten too thin ta be healthy anyway! Ya needed ta gain some, and if ya didn't like the extra weight, ya coulda hit the treadmill for an extra fifteen in the mornin'! Ya got your own, ya know! Pete gave it to ya for your birthday!"

"Will you just stop talking and listen!? _He_ made me go off, Mum! It was _him_! You think I did this on purpose?" Rose screeched.

"Who? Who made you go off it?" Jackie screeched right back, but double the volume.

"Harry Saxon! He told me I _had_ to. Said I was getting fat, and there hasn't been _anyone_ since Jimmy, so I wasn't worried about getting pregnant and...and then John came along out of the blue..."

Quietly, John entered his childhood room. He sat down next to Rose and she turned to look at the father of her child.

"Okay?" he asked, mouthing silently.

She half nodded, half shook her head, quirking her mouth, fighting more tears. "My mum..." she said quietly.

John gently pried the phone from Rose's hands and sighed into his mobile. "Hello."

"Who's this? Put my Rose back on the phone!" Jackie hollered.

"My name is John Smith, and I'm the...uh..." John straightened his posture, planted his feet firmly on the floor and wrapped his arm around Rose's shoulders, pulling her close. This time, he spoke with boldness. "Mrs. Tyler, I'm Dr. John Smith, and I'm the father of your grandchild."

Sensing the change in the man to her left, Rose's head snapped to look at him. She sniffed twice and then sat straighter, taller. For the first time in a month, she felt empowered. She was one half of a team of two, united in a common cause.

John smiled at Rose, winked, and pulled her snugly into his side. "It's gonna be okay, Mrs. Tyler. I'm here for Rose, and I'm here for this child, and even though the circumstances under which the baby was conceived were less than optimal, well, not _exactly_ less than optimal..." he winked again, and Rose blushed fiercely, and hid her face in his shoulder, "well I think you know what I mean. My point being, and I do have one, I am in this for the long haul Mrs. Tyler, and if Rose will have me, I want to marry her."

"What?" Both Tyler women asked the same question, two continents and an ocean apart.

Sylvia Noble screamed in anger from her listening post outside of John's bedroom door.

oOo

"All three parcels have been delivered," Toc LaFan confirmed. "What next Mr. Saxon?"

"I want you to become more than a simple nuisance to Rose Tyler and that irritating Smith. I want them hounded day and night. If you need help, tip off the worst of the bunch. I want pictures of Rose Tyler everywhere, every day. I want her scared out of her nut, and then I'll drop the bomb on her, call off the hounds in exchange for her cooperation. She'll be begging to sign my new and improved contract. I could care less about her getting sacked from _My Fair Lady_ to be honest. I have much bigger plans for her."

"They fired her?" Toc asked.

"Naw, but they will...who wants a barrel-shaped ingenue?" Saxon said with venom. "VanStatten will take one look at that medical report and kick her to the curb. He's too shallow not to." Harry folded his hands and placed them in his lap elegantly. "Besides, I've been approached by the developers of a new project. It's going to be epic, and they want Rose Tyler. Filming doesn't start for another year. That'll give her time to shove the screaming brat at a nanny and burn off the baby fat."

Toc smiled wryly. "What is it about this woman that you find so..." He pursed his lips and shook his head straining for the proper word. "...compelling? Why her?"

"Widdle Wosie Tywer," he mocked. "She appears so innocent with those pink, plump lips and that smile that could charm Genghis Khan..."

"You want her, don't you?" Toc licked his lips lasciviously and leaned forward. "Can't say that I haven't had a few fantasies myself-"

"Me? Want _her_? Oh, you misunderstand me Toc. I don't _want_ her, I want to _control_ her. _Subdue_ her. I don't think even she knows her own potential. Her face is alright, I suppose, if you're into that sort of look. Her body is quite good. But that's not where her power lies Mr. LaFan. Rose Tyler is a she-wolf screaming to be freed. And I want to be the one to unleash her...to subdue her, subject, bend her to my will. I will not be defied, Toc. I'm going to make her howl for me."

Something in the tone of Saxon's voice, and the glimmer in his eyes sent shivers down Toc's spine. He knew Saxon wasn't one with whom one should trifle. He had watched the poor Lucy crumble under Saxon's pressure.

"And did you schedule that meeting with Smith's ex?" Harold's smile returned.

"Cocktails at seven, your place," he said, managing to find his voice.

"Now where did I put my black satin cuffs? I haven't seen those since Lucy left me..." Saxon mused, tapping his finger to his lips. He fished an ice cube out of his drink and held it up to the light coming through the window. He popped it into his mouth and crushed it between his perfectly white teeth.

oOo

Google had proven a decent starting place to find information about Lucille Cole-Saxon, but Jack Harkness's professional sources had provided intelligence which had been much more enlightening. Lucille, Lucy to her friends and family, was the privileged and sheltered daughter of Lord Cole of Tarminster. The marriage of the beautiful heiress to Harold Saxon had been secretly solemnized in Switzerland with no family present. Even before their first anniversary, ten separate calls had been placed to 999 from the Saxon residence.

Jack listened to the archived recordings of the calls. The woman had alleged that her husband was plotting to harm her. She sounded nervous, perhaps a bit delusional. Her words had been slurred, though Jack doubted her impaired speech was alcohol related; during the last desperate call, her voice was crystal clear. She claimed that she had found vials and syringes, but they weren't marked. She insisted that she was being drugged. She had found track marks on her forearms, but didn't recall receiving any shots.

After the first half dozen calls, the police were sent to the home, but each time, Lucy would answer the door and shoo them off, saying she hadn't been quite herself. The police stopped responding, but strangely, formal charges were never filed against the woman for offering false reports.

The same night of that last, lucid call, a neighbor called 999 to report a disturbance in the Saxon home. Shots had been fired. Windows were broken. Lucy had screamed. The police responded, and found Lucy Saxon standing, nearly catatonic, over the unconscious body of her husband.

Harold Saxon received divorce papers from Lucy while still in his hospital bed. He recovered fully, as the wound had been relatively superficial. Without any of the usual delay, Lucy was tried and convicted of attempted murder, but mental illness was named as a mitigating circumstance, so she was sent to Broadfell Prison, which had psychiatric rehabilitation and care on site.

"To this day, she claims that it was self defense," Jack explained to Shaun and Donna over coffee, back at their legal office. "I can't say I don't believe her."

"I've been digging up intel on Saxon, too," Donna interjected. "Poor Lucy signed the world's worst prenuptial agreement. It stipulated if she ever filed for divorce, she had to cough up fifty-one percent of her fortune, and now Harry is stinkin', filthy, rich. Fifty-_one_ percent," Donna enunciated. "That's symbolic, that is."

"Paid off the coppers?" Shaun offered.

"And the court most likely," Donna scowled.

"What I don't get is why he is so obsessed with Rose..." Jack mused.

oOo

Rose sat on the chintz slipcovered sofa, nervously holding John's hand. Sylvia Noble sat in her favorite chair, arms crossed, glaring at the girl.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you? You little _slapper_. You got yourself pregnant on purpose, didn't you. You stalked my beautiful son, my brilliant son, my brilliant, emotionally vulnerable son, dug your perfectly manicured fingernails into him and...and...now he feels forced to marry you because he is selfless and...and...a martyr...and...feels obligated! Because that's the kind of man he is!"

"I haven't decided on anything yet, Mrs. Noble-"

"All part of your plan, isn't it? Playing the sweet, innocent girl...with your shining brown eyes and your pretty face. So you shed a few tears, you ask for forgiveness. Tell me. Really. If he hadn't have shown up last night at the theatre, would you really have gone through with this? Huh? No you wouldn't have! I know _your type_. You would've skulked down to NHS and-"

Rose shook her head. "That's not true Mrs. Noble. Absolutely not true. I didn't tell him because I didn't want to ruin his life! And...I have sat here and listened to you talk about me, but you know _nothing_ about me! For that matter, what is _my type_? You may have read a few articles in the tabs, but you know what? That isn't me! Most of the stuff they say about me is speculation, and the other half has apparently been invented by ex-manager. So you don't know me. Not at all. And the last thing I would ever do is intentionally hurt your son."

"Well...I guess I've been told," Sylvia replied smugly.

"First you say I planned to trap him, get him ta' knock me up _on purpose_...why would I do that? And then you say that I never would have told him, that I would have gone out and...and...terminated this pregnancy! Which is it Mrs. Noble? Which person you think I am? You know what? I'm neither. I'm Rose Tyler, and you know nothing about me! And it seems that you don't want to know the real me!"

Sylvia set her jaw and looked away, caught in the net of her own illogical argument.

"She's right, Mother...you won't even give her a chance." John interjected.

"Don't you dare call me _Mother_. If you're going to go and turn your back on your family name and go by _Smith_, then I'm going to be Sylvia to you!"

It never occurred to Rose until this moment that John neither shared Donna nor Sylvia's last name, yet Donna and he were twins.

"You still holding onto that, _Mother_?" he enunciated. "That was...years ago! In college! I went through a wild patch! At least I didn't join a commune and disappear into the...the...Amazon or something!"

"Forget Sylvia. From now it, it's _Mrs. Noble_!" Sylvia had now turned on the water works, delicately dabbing the forced tears from her eyes with a white linen handkerchief.

John rolled his eyes at his mother's dramatics. She had put on a similar show when he had told her that Renee had left him for another man.

"Pardon me _Miss_ Tyler, Mr. _Smith_, but I am going to take my leave now," she whimpered. "I do believe I need to go to my room and...and meditate," she said with an air of nobility.

"Please...please...I didn't want it to go this way." Rose called, her voice imploring.

Sylvia turned around and stopped in the corridor.

"Mrs. Noble, I promise, what happened was not intentional. Not at all. I didn't purposefully...trap John...in fact, this pregnancy has done nothing but cause me grief...well, until last night," she said softly, turning to John. "The last thing I want is to come between you and your son. Now I don't know what this Smith thing is all about...but...can we just...put that aside and...and at least try to get along? Right now the last thing any of us needs is more complication."

"Well that's very...sweet of you, _Miss_ Tyler. Naive, but sweet nonetheless. Perhaps when you are my age, and your son or daughter," said Sylvia, glancing down at Rose's stomach, and then at John, "you will understand what it means to have your child break your heart," she warbled emotionally.

"Rose, it's time for us to leave." John stood up and pulled Rose to her feet.

"Bye Mother, I'll be in touch." John guided Rose out of his mother's home and into the front garden.

"You leaving already, Johnny?" Wilf called from the side shed, looking up from the small, ancient telescope upon which he was tinkering.

"It was time. Mother told me to call her Sylvia."

"Uh oh. You must have really bollocksed it up, pardon my French, sweetheart," Wilf apologized to Rose.

"We have an appointment to keep anyway," John gave as an excuse. They didn't have to be at the Notting Hill police station for another three hours.

"Don't stay away too long...please Johnny. I'd miss you too much," Wilf said sadly.

"Granddad, do you think that my mother could scare me away from our standing Saturday midnight star party?"

"So you'll still come?" Wilf asked hopefully.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," John replied brightly.

Rose stepped closer to John's grandfather. "Can...can I come? I mean, I know it's rude to invite myself, but I've never even looked through a telescope before and obviously it's something that John really loves...looking at his room with all of those space pictures and stuff and well, if he loves space and stars and that, I think I'd like to know more about 'em, too." Rose stood nervously, picking her fingernails, embarrassed to be so forward, yet hopeful all the same.

"Of course you can, sweetheart! But only if you bring a big thermos of hot chocolate," Wilf said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Thanks!" she gushed. "I'll come by after the show. It lets out at ten thirty, and it only takes me about fifteen minutes to get outta costume."

John turned and looked at her with a bit of wonder and squeezed her hand. "I'll pick you up from the theatre. We'll ride over here together." She cared enough to want to learn about what interested him. During their entire marriage, not once had Renee accompanied him stargazing, not for lack of asking on his part. "I'll...I'll just call us a taxi."

oOo

John and Rose had almost an hour to pass until they were to meet Donna and Shaun at the Notting Hill police station. The taxi dropped them off and they found a cafe and ordered tea, sitting side by side on the wooden bench.

"John...what was your mum talking about? You changin' your name?" Rose asked, not sure whether she should be laughing at the woman's theatrics, or crying from her slings and arrows.

"When I was at university, I went through a bit of an...erm, rebellious stage, I guess you could call it. Decided I wanted to make myself into a new man, so I grew my hair out...it was all curly and..." he shuddered and wiggled his fingers in disgust, eliciting a laugh from Rose. "...and I dyed it ginger." He turned to her and raised his eyebrows. "No matter how much I envy Donna her fiery locks, curly, ginger hair is definitely _not_ my best look."

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think...you have great hair." Rose brushed a stray lock away from his eye. "I think I need to see some pictures of that sometime." Her tongue poked through her teeth as she smiled.

"Not gonna happen," he shook his head in emphasis, trying to hide the quiver in his voice after her fingertip had grazed his forehead.

"Oh, I could think of some ways to convince you," Rose said flirtatiously.

"Well when you put it that way, maybe I will take you up on that..._convincing_..." John countered boldly, his voice low and rumbling in his throat. He looked down at her lips and she sucked in her breath nervously, and the moment was lost. "So I took up knitting and learned to play the recorder."

She laughed freely, imagining ginger-headed John wearing a long woolen scarf, tooting a merry tune.

"I even changed my course of study for one term to philosophy. And to top it all off, I legally changed my last name from Noble to Smith, with the idea that John Smith was a name of _The People_. As you can imagine, Mother _hated_ it. But...I never bothered to change it back. By the time the rebellious phase waned, I was beginning to gain a name for myself within academic circles, and how would I explain that bit of...eccentricity, so I never changed it back."

"Oh, I don't know," Rose said with a bit of humor in her voice. "Aren't the most brilliant people always a bit eccentric?"

"Are you saying I'm brilliant, Rose Tyler?"

Rose bit her lip, dipped her head and blushed. John pulled her close into his side and buried his nose in her hair. "Yeah...you are." Rose pulled away and looked at him. She pressed her lips together and studied his face.

"You're staring at me," he stated quietly.

"Did you really mean it?" Rose asked, her voice even quieter than his.

"Mean what?"

"That you want to marry me."

John looked at her, serious and earnest. He nodded, his brows furrowed. "Yes. I meant it."

"Why? 'Cos you really don't have to...I mean, I have money to support the two of us, and there's always Mum and Pete, and I know Mum will come around in time and-"

"Rose, I know you can support yourself and your child, and I have no doubt that you would do it brilliantly. But...I don't want this babe to grow up wondering why her father left. Why her father didn't...didn't care."

"I'd never tell him that," she said shaking her head. "Never."

"Him?" he asked, with a half smile.

"Her?" she volleyed right back with a full smile.

"What if I were to tell you I would take care of every midnight nappy change so you could sleep. Would you accept my proposal?"

"Oh, that settles it," she said with humor. "Nappy changing: the foundation of a solid marriage."

They laughed and then simultaneously sighed, which led to another synchronized giggle.

"Rose, I think...no, I _know_ we have the chance to build something really spectacular together...a really beautiful family, and...I don't want it to slip through our fingers...I don't want us to waste this chance."

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but John put his finger on her lips. "Just think about it. Promise me that?"

"But I'm so _young_...and you're so smart and your mum hates me and-"

"And I'm so _old_ and you're a West End star and _your_ Mum hates me-"

"At least we have that in common," Rose laughed, biting her lip.

"You know, some marriages have thrived on less than we have right now. We actually _like_ each other. At least I _think_ you like me. I know I like you. Do you like me? I hope you like me because-"

"Of course, I like you!" She slapped his arm playfully.

"I'm glad." He bumped his shoulder to hers.

"I'm glad too...that you like me," Rose giggled.

"And...we have mutual attraction," he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Well, there is _that_..." Rose blushed, rolled her eyes but even so, shook her head in agreement.

With shaking hands, John set down his teacup and turned his head so they were face to face. Rose's breathing sped up, as did his. They closed their eyes, and their lips met somewhere in the middle. The kiss was brief and beautiful. They broke apart and both smiled, both a bit shyly.

"We really did run before we walked, didn't we?" Rose whispered as she bumped her nose against his.

"So...wanna take the walk together now?"

Rose nodded. "As long as we can hold hands while we walk. And..." Rose paused. "And John, I'm looking forward to running again...but not just yet. We need to do this right." She looked up into his eyes. "Yes. I'll marry you."

* * *

Thanks for your patience! We are now settled (for the most part) in our new home. I should be returning to the consistent posting schedule. If I haven't replied to your review, please forgive me! It does not mean your reviews aren't valued.

Yes, John and Rose are being hasty, and this is where "Fools Rush In" comes into the story.


	7. Chapter 7

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 7**

_With shaking hands, John set down his teacup and turned his head so they were face to face. Rose's breathing sped up, as did his. They closed their eyes, and their lips met somewhere in the middle. The kiss was brief and beautiful. They broke apart and smiled, both a bit shyly._

_"We really did run before we walked, didn't we?" Rose whispered as she bumped her nose against his._

_"So...wanna take the walk together now?"_

_Rose nodded. "As long as we can hold hands while we walk. And..." Rose paused. "And John, I'm looking forward to running again...but not just yet. We need to do this right." She looked up into his eyes. "Yes. I'll marry you."_

"You…you will?" John asked, surprised.

"Yeah…I will…for a lotta reasons. 'Cos you're a nice bloke and I like you, I like you a lot even, and because of the baby, too. But mainly...because...because I think we have the potential of bein' so much more together. _So_ much more, and I know we aren't there yet, but I really think...I _know_ we will be."

An endearing sound came from the back of his throat before he grinned. "So you aren't just marrying me for my book shop?"

"Right...that's it. Especially for the naughty books in back," she laughed. "And you're marryin' me 'cos I'm sorta famous and for my modest bank account that's gonna disappear when I pay off Saxon..." She laughed even harder and rolled her eyes.

He furrowed his brow. "You know that is _exactly_ what people are going to say, Rose. They're going to say all sorts of horrible things."

"I'm used to people bein' that way anyway 'bout me." She was unfazed this time, as if having John by her side negated the pain of the false statements.

"I suppose you are. So...who do we tell first?" John asked, beaming.

"Donna and Shaun maybe? Jack? After our mums' reactions, I'm a bit terrified to tell them," Rose replied, wincing.

"Don't worry about Mother...Oh wait! I'm supposed to call her Sylvia, no...Mrs. Noble," he said sardonically.

Rose put her hand on his and squeezed.

John turned to face her. "Everything sets her off, Rose. Why do you think I did what I did at university? If she won first place prize for best garden in Chiswick, she'd complain that the ribbon wasn't the right shade of blue." He sighed. "First year at King's, I came in first in physics. She asked why I wasn't first in organic chemistry, too."

"I'm sorry..."

He looked down at the table.

"But how'd you end up so...nice?" She gasped and covered her mouth.

"Rose Tyler," he falsely admonished. "Usually I'm the rude one," he said, half smiling devilishly. "I guess I take after Granddad more than anyone. I spent more time with him than anyone else growing up...and Donna, of course."

"She's got great kids, a great father-in-law...I don't understand? Why does she seem so miserable?" Rose asked, confused.

"Honestly, I don't know. I just don't know. Dad died two years ago, but she was unhappy before that even. They didn't have the best relationship, but it certainly wasn't _horrible_. It was more...distant than anything. Cold. If this was 1743, I would have assumed they'd been stuck in an awkward arranged marriage."

They sat quietly for a moment and drank their tea until John abruptly broke the silence. "You'll really, truly marry me?"

"I said I would, you goof!" Rose hit him playfully on the arm. Then she bit her lip. "Yeah..." she replied more seriously, softly, tenderly. She put her hand behind his head and pulled him to her. She kissed him, mirroring the tone of her words with her lips: tender, soft and serious.

John wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, memorizing the feeling of this proper, sober, kiss.

The sound of a rapid-fire camera shutter startled them apart. "Cheers, Rose and Doctor Smith! I'll send you a copy. This is gonna be a smasher!" The paparazzo darted out of the cafe.

Rose groaned, rested her forehead against John's and then they both laughed quietly.

"Come on, let's get out of here," John whispered. "It's time we meet Shaun, Donna and Jack at the police station."

oOo

Rose tried to slam the door of the police station as they left, but it was self-closing, and closed slowly, fighting her desire to make an angry exit. "Simple assault!" She put her hands on her hips and paced the pavement as she muttered to herself. "That's the only thing they'll charge him with? What about how he tried to force me into an abortion? And stealing my medical records? That's invasion of privacy!"

"I'm sorry, Rose. I really am," Shaun said sympathetically. "But the cops are right. Legally that's all they can work with right now. We are going to have to come up with proof that Saxon is behind the parcels that were delivered to your Mum and Sylvia, and that he arranged for the theft of those medical records."

"I'll take care of that Rosie, don't you worry, sweetheart," Jack assured her. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

"And...you've shown your face, you made an appearance. I hope Saxon doesn't try anything more, but if he does...you've put him on their radar," John added.

"The DI seemed sympathetic," Donna said, encouragingly. "And Shaun's right. Just going in and tellin' 'em what happened this morning was important."

"What about the letter from his ex-wife? Do you still have it Rose?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. It's at my flat."

"Bring me a copy tomorrow, and I'll drop it by the station," Shaun ordered.

"Why wasn't what John and Jack witnessed this morning enough for them to at least open an investigation into more?"

Shaun shook his head. "They didn't hear anything...nothing that couldn't be explained away as a heated argument between a manager and his client."

"It's like...it's like they won't _do_ anything until he actually does something _really_ awful!" Rose screeched.

John put his arm around Rose and pulled her into his side. "Come on. Let's go someplace quiet, alright? You've had a rough day, Rose. Why don't I take you home to your flat," he offered, speaking quietly into her ear. "I'll make you supper."

She shook her head. "Don't wanna go home. Don't feel safe there alone anymore."

Jack stepped forward and spoke up. "Forgot to tell you, Doc, I've found a place." He turned to Rose. "You can stay in my room at John's place."

"You found a new flat between this morning and now? You work fast," Donna said with a smirk.

"I'm very industrious," he replied to Donna, and then turned to Rose. "Can I borrow him for a minute?" he asked, inclining his head towards John.

Rose nodded and joined Donna and Shaun.

Jack pulled John aside. "I figured you and Rose would want some space, so I went ahead and leased a flat this afternoon. I've had my eye on it for a while, and it's close to work."

John pressed his lips together and nodded his sincere thanks. "And she said yes."

"You didn't! You tellin' me you _really_ asked her to marry you? I thought you were joking."

"Oh, I definitely meant it, Harkness," John said with a fiery look that told Jack to stop questioning his judgment.

"Please, _please_ be careful, John," said Jack melodramatically. "You were a mess after thatpsycho manipulating ex-wife hoochie-mama ripped out your heart and shoved it down your throat with her designer stiletto."

"You talkin' about Renee' over there?" Donna called out with a smile, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Rose is different," John stated firmly, ignoring his sister. "See how I've changed? Just in the short time that we've known each other? Rose would never toy with me, or try to manipulate my friends or colleagues against me."

"I can't disagree with you there, but she's also young, and you are emotional right now and...I'd hate to see _either_ of you get hurt. Don't toy with her, John." Jack stopped himself before he said something that he would regret. "I'll talk to you soon, Doc.

"Shaun and I are going to head home." Donna gave her brother a hug, and then turned and tentatively hugged Rose. "I heard what happened at Mum's house. Don't take it personally, Rose. Well, try not to, alright?"

"Thanks Donna. For everything. And um...I told my stepdad that I had a new manager, which wasn't completely true...yet, but, well, I was hoping...maybe...would you be my manager? You're so smart and legally savvy, and you care, and I can pay you and everything. Shaun could write the contract up, and I'd want my stepdad to look it over of course, but...well...what do you think? Would you?" Rose bit her lip as she waited for Donna's answer.

"Well...I...I don't know what to say. I've never acted as anyone's manager before, but I think it would be...brilliant! Yes! I'll do it."

oOo

"Want to pick up some things at your place first?" John asked shyly. "Why don't you plan on things for a week. Think of it as a mini-break...like going to a B & B."

"Okay," she smiled. "You gonna be my maid service?"

"Of course. Pillow mint, turndown service, the whole shebang."

She grinned and laughed at the thought of John in a maid's uniform. "I'll grab the letter while I'm at it..."

John directed the taxi to swing by Rose's flat, and waited while she retrieved the necessary items for a week of rest as well as the telltale correspondence from Lucy Cole-Saxon. The ride through the busy evening London traffic was quiet, save the occasional horn toot. John and Rose glanced at each other from time to time, but even if their eyes weren't on one another, their clasped hands never once separated, not even when they exited the taxi and the fare was paid.

"You don't have much stuff, for a _female_," John said as they approached his blue door.

Rose's rucksack was slung over one of her shoulders. "Yeah, well, when you have to get made up all the time for work, you tend to want simple when you're off stage."

He smiled at that. "Um, I'll just check out Jack's room before you go in there, alright? Never can tell what state it's gonna be in."

She nodded as she tentatively stepped over the threshold and looked around, truly seeing his home for the first time. "Your home is lovely," she called out, genuinely appreciating the place.

"Thanks," he replied from upstairs. He wasn't long, and was soon skipping down the narrow stairs from inspecting the room Jack had used. "He was a good house guest...left no trace. I need to make the bed, though. Do you like a hard pillow or a soft one?"

"Soft, please," she replied, a bit distracted, as she examined a photograph of a nebula.

"Granddad gave me this framed photograph for Christmas last year. It's..." he cleared his throat. "It's the Rosette Nebula." He was looking over her shoulder now, standing close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "It's a stellar nursery about 5,000 light-years from Earth in the Monoceros, or Unicorn, constellation."

She turned her head and lifted an eyebrow, then looked back at the image that did vaguely look like a rose.

"Bit ironic, that. A nebula named Rose who gives birth to stars..."

Rose blushed at John's observation and pushed her hair behind her ear as she intensely kept her eyes on the photograph.

"Not that...you well...are going to...give birth to more...babies...or you might," he stuttered.

"Might do," she said, her voice a bit dry. "But...let's see how this one goes first."

They stood quietly for a moment. "I have more photos, if you'd like to see them..." he said awkwardly, "if you want. We don't have to of course, if you're too tired..."

"I'd like to see 'em. How about after that dinner you promised me," Rose said lightly, trying to break the awkwardness that was growing.

He smiled. "Alright then. Would you like a quick, hot bath or something while I prepare supper? We could eat in our jimjams."

"Jimjams?" she asked with a smile that sweetly crinkled her nose.

"Of course! Pyjama dinners are brilliant!"

Rose scurried off, and John put his hands into his trouser pockets, rocked on his heels and allowed himself to revel in the happiness that was surging. It had been such a long time...

John quickly prepared a simple, healthy supper of whole wheat farfalle with herbs and steamed vegetables. As he grated parmesan cheese over the top of each plate, Rose skipped down the narrow stairs and swept into the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and scented.

"Look at you all pink and yellow, wrapped up in that fuzzy pink dressing gown and duckie jimjams."

"Where are your pyjamas?" she asked, nabbing a butterfly-shaped piece of pasta and popping it into her mouth. "Thought we were gonna have dinner in our jimjams."

"Oi! I'm not done yet!" he slapped her hand away as she reached for a broccoli floret. She grabbed it anyway, and pushed it into his open mouth.

Their teasing and flirting continued through dinner, though they never made it to the table, instead, eating while standing at the kitchen counter.

"Mmm, that was good," Rose said as she finished off her food.

"Thanks. Got quite good at cooking for one," he said with a smirk.

"Well, you don't have to cook for one anymore."

"Cooking for three now," replied John.

"Speaking of that third person, I need to...use the...uh...loo," she said, self-consciously before she left the kitchen.

John began to wash up the dishes, and when Rose returned, she jumped right in, taking on the job of drying.

"Why don't you go sit in the lounge, and I'll get your room sorted," John offered as he hanged the clean stockpot from the rack in front of the far window.

She curled up on one end of the sofa, tucking her legs up underneath and made herself comfortable, thumbing through an old copy of _Astronomy Now_. John returned, dressed in a ratty t-shirt depicting Marvin the Martian, and grey fleece track pants.

"Wanna watch some telly?" asked John.

"Thought you were gonna show me your star pictures..."

"Naw...I'd have haul out my laptop and plug it in 'cos the battery's almost dead and then I'd have to-" he explained, whining a bit.

"Sure, telly's fine," Rose laughed. "Another time?" she asked.

"'I promise..." he said with a yawn as he picked up the remote control and flipped through the programmes.

"Ooh! Star Trek! Let's play expendable red shirt!" Rose blurted.

"Never would've pegged you for someone who watched _Star Trek_," stated John, clearly pleased.

"I sorta got into it when I was in America," she said as she watched. "Did you watch it when it first aired?

"No!" John whinged. "I'm not _that_ old!"

Rose blushed and wished she could melt into the sofa, and then he sputtered a laugh, and reached down the sofa and grabbed her hand.

"I don't need to watch telly, why don't we just talk?" John suggested.

"How about we tell each other something about ourselves that the other person couldn't possibly know...get to know each other, yeah?"

"Fine idea, Rose Tyler. You first."

"Alright. Um...I never got my A levels and I've always wanted to go back and get 'em, so I could continue studying, become a Shakespearean actor."

"Oh, _very_ good! What's stopping you?" he asked pointedly.

"Work. Life. And now the baby."

"I won't stop you, Rose." John squeezed her hand. "My turn. I want to go somewhere where I can see the stars, somewhere where the sky is clear and unspoilt, somewhere exotic."

"They say that the best place to view the stars is in the desert."

"Do you want to see the stars?"

"I think I would...with you..." she whispered. Her lips were parted, relaxed, full. "Don't know nothin' about 'em, like I told your Granddad, but...you could teach me. Would you be my very own, private professor?" she teased.

"I'd love to be your professor," he said. He slowly sat up from his relaxed position on the far end of the sofa, and moved closer to Rose.

"What's my first lesson, Dr. Smith?" she asked, breathily and a bit nervous, as the look in John's eyes had changed. They'd become darker and aroused. She wasn't afraid of him, she was afraid of what she might let herself do.

"Let's start with the basics. A general understanding of physics is always helpful. Magnetism, gravity, _attraction_..."

John pulled her closer, and hesitantly kissed her. "You did say we didn't have a problem with attraction. Since you clearly have that part down pat, let's just review, shall we?"

Rose curled her toes and reflexively slid her arms around his body. He eased her down onto her back, never breaking contact, and they kissed deeply, heatedly, until Rose gasped. Her chest rose and fell, her breath rhythmic as she fought hard to regain her wits.

She pulled him back down to her, and John kissed her even more passionately, his body clearly bearing the evidence of not wanting to stop with a snog on the couch.

Rose pushed him away. "I'm sorry...I have to stop...we need to stop..."

"Right. Walking. No running. Positively no running." John swallowed hard and pushed himself up and off of Rose. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Rose saw the embarrassed look on his face, and caressed his cheek. "Believe me, I want. Oh, how much I _want_...but I really want to do this the right way, so I'm going to go before I give in. G'night, John." Rose's body was begging her to stay with John, while her mind and heart were telling her to flee temptation, to be wise. Wisdom won out, and she ran to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Rose," John said, scrubbing his face after she left. As soon as he heard the door to her room close, he groaned and retired to his own bedroom, heading straight for the shower.

oOo

Rose slept soundly, feeling safe in John's home, though she had lain in bed more than a bit physically frustrated for quite a while before finally nodding off. She awoke thinking about one more thing that had to be done: it was imperative that she speak to the management of _My Fair Lady_, sooner rather than later.

"Simon, I'm sorry you found out this way, and I'm sorry that I didn't answer your phone calls. My mobile was damaged and I need to get a new one today and as soon as I do, I'll get you that number, alright?" she rambled, nervously. "Really, I didn't want you to hear it this way. I'm really sorry!" Rose spoke into the speakerphone in Donna and Shaun's office.

"Do you know what a bind this puts us in, Tyler? Do you really, truly understand?" the show's director, Simon Editor-Pegg said angrily.

"I know," she replied.

"Listen, honestly, I could care less than you're pregnant. Babies are cute and sweet and smell like powder. I love babies. But keeping this a secret when we could have been planning around it? That's what fries me."

"You're right. I was scared and stupid and acted foolishly and dumb and I was selfish and didn't think of others and-"

"Shut up, Tyler. Enough self-flagellation. You're embarrassing yourself," interrupted Henry Van Statten. "I need you to commit to a plan. When can you come back?" he asked, pointedly.

"Miss Tyler is physically and emotionally exhausted, Mr. Van Statten. Her former manager, Harold Saxon, pushed her beyond the brink, hence her near collapse during Sunday's intermission. She requires at least a week off." Donna spoke with the confidence of a woman who had been a personal representative for years.

"A week." Van Statten repeated, flatly. "I assume you are going to issue a press release?"

"Of course, straightaway," Donna replied.

"I want you to state that Tyler is out of the show until further notice, indefinitely...I don't care what word you use, just make it clear she's out of the show," Van Statten said harshly.

"What? You're firin' me?" Rose howled angrily.

"If you'd stop screeching for just a minute, you'd know I'm not firing you. So just listen, blondie. I'm giving you a week off. One! If the release says 'indefinitely,' your return will be more marketable. We'll sell out for sure."

Donna nodded in agreement. "Makes sense," she agreed with a roll of her eyes.

"But Ms. Noble-Temple, we both know Rose here is gonna have to leave the show eventually, and she _will_ require a contract renegotiation as there was no clause for pregnancy in the original contract by which she is currently bound."

"I'll have her solicitor draw up a new contract," stated Donna.

"Thank you Mr. Van Statten, for not giving me the boot," Rose replied meekly.

"I wouldn't be too quick to thank me, Tyler. You've royally effed up your career. Too bad. You're talented and you're making me rich. Make good use of your week off and come back ready to work hard one week from tomorrow." He ended the call without any further ado.

Donna filed the press release that morning.

_Until further notice, personal circumstances require that Rose Tyler immediately take a leave of absence from her role as Eliza Doolittle in the smash hit West End production of 'My Fair Lady'. Understudy and personal friend of Ms. Tyler, Astrid Peth, has already proven herself brilliant in the role, and should be given the support and adulation she deserves. Ms. Tyler wishes to assure her fans and supporters that she is, indeed healthy, and offers her heartfelt thanks to all who have voiced their well wishes and concern for her health._

oOo

Renee Fisher awoke alone. On the empty pillow next to her was an envelope. She opened it and smiled as she thumbed through the notes.

Harold Saxon walked out of the wardrobe as he worked his onyx cufflinks. "Don't you trust me?" he pouted. "I promise pet, it's all there."

"Oh, I do trust you, _mon cheri_," she said in an affected French accent. "I _enjoy_ counting cash. Like the way it feels between my fingers."

"When do you plan to visit your long lost love?" Harry asked, tightening his black and silver tie.

"Patience, Harry. A seduction like this requires skill, planning...time. He is intellectually superior to her, and I can't imagine she will keep his attention for much longer. She's a sweet little thing, I give her that, and she may keep him distracted for a while, but it takes a real woman to captivate a man such as John Smith. Let him become bored of the child, and then I'll sweep back into his life, contrite and begging forgiveness...having seen the error of my ways...and then I'll remind him who he really needs...an equal."

Renee got out of bed, shameless and completely comfortable in her state of undress.

"Of course, he won't buy it, but I'll make sure that little Rose Tyler sees and hears every moment of our reunion. She doesn't know everything about John, how could she? So what if he has a secret she doesn't know about? That he likes to film his encounters?"

"Kinky."

"Oh, he doesn't have a kinky bone in his boring, skinny body, but I do..."

"Oooo, I knew I'd like you, Renee. Well done...!" He clapped in adulation.

* * *

It is nice to be back on a regular updating schedule. Thanks to all of you who wished me well during my recent cross-country move. Life is so much better now that we are in our home, and the majority of the boxes are unpacked.

Note the graphic assigned to this story: it is an image of the Rosette Nebula. This particular image was an image of the day on the NASA website. Lovely, isn't it?

So...just how badly do you want Saxon and Renee to be smacked down?


	8. Chapter 8

**My Fair Rose  
****Chapter 8**

Pete Tyler hefted his Jackie's matching set of luggage onto the scale at the curbside check-in kiosk, and then took Tony Tyler from his wife's hip and lifted his son up onto his shoulders.

"Peter Tyler, Tony's too little to be up there! You be careful!" Jackie warned.

"Does he look like he's scared, Jacks? What do you see up there, Tiger?" Pete asked his toddler son while Jackie began the check-in process.

"Eh-peh!" The one year old pointed gleefully at an airplane that was taking off.

Tony protested when Pete took him down from his perch. "Call me when you you're ready for us to come out, Jacks," Pete whispered into Jackie's ear as they hugged and kissed one more time. "Say bye-bye to Mummy," he prompted Tony, who immediately started to cry, reaching his arms out for his mother.

"_The Loading Zone is for passenger loading and unloading only. Unattended vehicles will be towed," _droned the recorded voice for the umpteenth time.

"I think I'd better get a cuppa before I board or else I'll be a troll. Hope Starbucks is still open this late," Jackie rambled, trying not to think about being separated from her precious boy.

It had been a whirlwind of a day, booking last minute tickets so that Jackie would be on the red-eye to London. She would be arriving around noon the next day.

"Don't be too hard on her Jacks, she's hurting pretty bad," Pete stated, not for the first time since the shocking telephone conversation early that morning.

"You're a good man, Pete Tyler. Have I told you that?" Jackie replied, earnest, but in a reply that didn't give him any sort of answer one way or another.

Pete grinned and kissed his wife one final time.

"Goodbye my sweet boy, Mummy will see you soon!" Pete handed Tony to Jackie so she could take her son into her arms one last time, hug him and smother him with kisses. Pink lipstick smudges marked the boy's round cheeks. Reluctantly, she handed her son back to his father.

Jackie's nondescript, rolling carry-on bag trailed behind her as she disappeared through the sliding glass doors of LAX. In less than a day, she would be with her Rose, meeting _"that John Smith creep"_ as he had become known within the Tyler mansion, and she was sure that there would be slapping involved.

oOo

"There's someone I need to talk to. Wanna come with me?" Rose asked John while they ambled along the Embankment sipping fruit smoothies.

"Sure. Where to then, Miss Tyler?" he asked with courtly grace.

"To the theatah, Mr. Smith!" She flashed him a brilliant smile. They found the nearest bus stop, and made their way to the West End Theatre District.

Once they had arrived at the theatre, Rose and John slipped inside, hoping no one would see them. For the most part, they were successful, save a few stage hands who could really care less about the gossip of the day.

"Wait here for a mo, 'kay?" she requested of John before going through the open door, into the small room.

Sarah Jane's back was to Rose. "Is that you Joe? Did you bring me the alteration for-"

"Hello," Rose said quietly, hands in the pockets of her black track jacket.

"Rose Tyler, you aren't supposed to be here! You're supposed to be resting!" Sarah Jane lunged at her and pulled her into a hug. "How are you? How did... how did things go with John?"

"Really brilliantly, actually." Rose shyly ducked her head. "He's outside. I wanted to introduce you to him, because well..."

John walked in of his own accord. "Hello Sarah Jane."

"John Smith? Dr. John Smith, is that you?" Sarah Jane breathed the question.

He greeted her with one of those bright smiles that Rose loved to see on his face. He pulled Sarah Jane into a hug and lifted her off of her feet.

"You're Rose's John..." Sarah Jane stated, once her feet were back on the floor.

"I am," he replied proudly.

Sarah Jane's demeanor changed significantly. "Well then, Mr. Smith," she said, nose tipped proudly in the air, full of confidence. "I have some words for you. How dare you sleep with Rose, and then not call her for an entire month. You knew exactly where she was the entire time, she didn't keep it a secret. You don't just go...leaving people hanging like that! You...you _always_ do that! It's not right!" she said, voice hitching.

"Hold on," Rose interjected, shaking her head, both confused and surprised. "The two of you know each other?"

John rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and Sarah Jane crossed her arms, angry and hurt. Both ignored Rose's question.

John looked down at his feet. "And I've kicked myself about a million times...for what I did to Rose, and...and what I did to you. I'm so sorry, Sarah Jane. I needed...I needed to keep my nose clean. I didn't think I could chance being involved in the scandal. All I could see was that job waiting for me after I earned my doctorate, and...and I was very, very selfish."

"Doing the right thing, even if it was risky never had stopped you before, why didn't you show up that one time, John? It was so important!" Pain was evident on Sarah Jane's face.

"Please, someone tell me what's going on," Rose prodded again.

John drew in a deep breath and blew it out through puffed cheeks. "Sarah Jane was one of my doctoral advisors at King's. We were good friends. The best," he said softly, casting a fond glance at Sarah Jane. "I...I broke a promise to her, left her in the lurch so to speak, and well-"

"You had become so wrapped up in your thesis that you forgot your friends, John. I was there for you when times were hard, but you weren't there for me when _I_ needed you."

Rose wondered just what the circumstances were that had caused this rift. Sarah Jane had been a very good friend to her, and she felt her loyalties to John straining somewhat. "I think I'll leave the two of you to talk." Rose left quietly.

John resumed the conversation. "I never thought it would have blown up so big."

"Yes, well...they always loved me, didn't they?" she said facetiously. "Well, they won. I ended up resigning. I lost all interest in astronomy, moved to Scotland and started a new life. Can't get much further from astrophysics than the stage," she said with a chortle.

"I feel like I took your life from you..." John dropped himself into a side chair and stared into infinity.

"Oh...it wasn't just you John. It was many things. But...but your broken promise was the final straw. I think I was destined to leave the University from the minute I began teaching."

"I'm a different man from who I was back then, Sarah Jane. I had such hopes and dreams. I was going to be this great researcher and the professor that every student wants to sit under, the one they remember until their dying day. It was all I could see..." he mused, "and I know I promised to be a witness to your character in that meeting of the Regents, but I..." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I was scared. I was a coward when it comes down to it. I was a coward with Rose, too."

"In so many ways you seemed so old back then - your intellect and knowledge was far beyond your years. But when it came down to people, you were young. You were immature," she boldly charged. "You were a genius to be sure, bit you had a lot of growing up to do, even if you were working on a doctorate. I was wrong to have put such a burden onto your shoulders, John. _I_ know I didn't plagiarize, and I think _they_ knew it too, but you know how academia can be... If you ruffle the head hen's feathers, you get kicked out of the henhouse."

John and Sarah Jane were quiet for a few moments, reflecting on the past.

"Are you happy now? Doing what you're doing here?" John leaned forward, and Sarah Jane sat in the chair where Rose would sit to have her makeup applied.

"Yes, I am. I ended up loving this life. I've made wonderful friends. I'm strong. I'm independent. I'm not bitter, John. I'm really not. I just wish you had at least come to say goodbye."

"Now I suppose, I won't have to, will I? Say goodbye, I mean. It'll always be hello...if you...if you want, that is."

"Of course I do, you silly man. You know, I think you're still the same in many ways. I think maybe you still have some growing up to do?" she asked, kindly.

"Always the honest one, weren't you Sarah Jane," he said, wincing at the truth. "Her name was Renee Fisher. _Brilliant_ legal mind. Stunningly beautiful, and she was interested in _me_! Skinny, slightly mad me. Of course, I married her. And...she left me for a man who was _more. _Moremoney, more looks, more status...She had talked me into opening a book shop in Notting Hill that would attract intellectuals. My teaching astronomy and geography apparently wasn't _enough_. I suppose she thought it would be a nice little side business to feed our bank account. And well, I had to quit teaching in order to keep the shop afloat after, she took most of the contents of that bank account. I had to pay the mortgage on our posh Notting Hill address somehow. I couldn't give enough attention to the book shop while teaching, and teaching wasn't paying enough."

"Why didn't you just sell the shop?" Sarah Jane asked, puzzled. "You loved teaching."

"Yeah...well...I'm stubborn. Remember? I didn't want to admit to her that I couldn't make a go of it."

"I'm sorry, John." Sarah Jane got off of the chair, and extended her hand. "Friends again?"

"Friends," he agreed, shaking, and then hugging her. "I think, maybe, I should rescue Rose. She's probably wondering what this was all about."

"You're probably right. Come with me, I think I know where she is."

They found Rose sitting cross-legged on the stage, leaning against a spinet piano, secretly watching Astrid rehearse a scene with a tricky wig that always gave Rose fits. Rose caught John approaching, and he was smiling. He held out his hand, and wiggled his fingers. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet. Rose looked at John, and then at Sarah Jane, feeling a bit of unsettled. She wondered if they had romantic history. A small wave of jealousy crept into her mind.

"So...the two of you work things out?" she asked, a not so subtle probe for more information.

"Yes. We did. Let's go back to your dressing room, darling," Sarah Jane said with a genuine smile.

John squeezed Rose's hand reassuringly, seeing anxiousness written on her face. Sarah Jane saw it as well, and raised an eyebrow at John, while cracking a small smile. John closed the door behind him.

"Rose, I can guess what you are wondering. No, John and I were never involved romantically." Sarah Jane cracked a smile. "We were the best of friends. Not that he isn't devastatingly foxy," Sarah Jane said with a wink.

Rose fought the urge to relax her face which would certainly have given away her jealousy, but the act of trying to _not_ react to Sarah Jane's comment, made her smile and then sputter a laugh. John and Sarah Jane then joined her, and peals of laughter rolled through the small dressing room. Rose's face burned with embarrassment. "It's not so unbelievable, is it? The two of you?" Rose finally said, rolling her eyes once she calmed down.

Sarah Jane poured them each a cup of tea, and they all found a place to sit.

"Do you have a few minutes before you need to start working with Astrid?" Rose asked.

Sarah Jane nodded, and Rose cleared her throat.

"You know how Van Statten is telling everybody my leave of absence is indefinite 'cos I need a rest? Well, it's not. I'm coming back next week. It's one of those marketing schemes of his. I'm just taking a week to rest and," she sighed, "get my life back, really." Rose looped her arm through John's. "We're getting married, Sarah Jane."

"You're what?" Sarah Jane asked, unbelieving.

"We know it's too fast, and it seems crazy, but...we just think it's the right thing to do and...I want you to be my maid-of-honor. Will you? Please?" Rose asked, earnestly.

"Well, I don't know. I just don't know," Sarah Jane replied, flustered. "I...I take it very seriously...standing up for someone who is getting married...it's not something to be taken lightly, John and Rose. Believe me, I know." She raised an eyebrow and set her jaw. "I've seen too many hasty marriages end badly. My own included."

John opened his mouth to speak, and she raised a hand to halt him.

"That's a story for another day, John. It was years ago, and not pertinent."

Rose was clearly disappointed, but not surprised at Sarah Jane's hesitancy to agree to the request. "Fair enough. There's more. I fired Saxon."

"Well good for you, darling. It's about time. That man...I just wanted to smack his smarmy face every time he looked at you, the creeper."

John jumped into the conversation. "We think he paid someone off at the clinic where Rose been seen for her antenatal care. Her records were given to several people without her consent, to tip them off to the fact that she is pregnant."

Sarah Jane set her cup of tea down, no longer simply irritated, but angry. "That weasel! It doesn't surprise me one bit, Rose. Not one bit."

"He had records delivered to my mother." John pulled a face.

"Oh John, I am...really, really sorry," said Sarah Jane with a nervous laugh. "Have you met Sylvia yet, Rose?"

John tugged at his ear, and nodded. "Uh, yeah...she has."

"Alright, off of _that_ subject. Rose, I hope you went to the police about all of this."

She nodded. "Yesterday. But they can't do anything about it yet, they need more proof, but we have someone doing some investigation for us. He hurt me, too. Not badly, but was enough to report him for simple assault."

Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows.

"And he tried to force me into gettin' an abortion, but I refused." Rose straightened her back and looked at John proudly. "I called John, and he came rushin' over and...he saved me." She smiled at him, and then dropped her head on his shoulder. "I'm staying at John's place for the week 'cos I just don't feel safe in my flat. Toc has been stalkin' me somethin' fierce, too."

"Oh Rose, I'm so sorry about all of this. As if an unexpected pregnancy weren't stressful enough."

"Don't be sorry, Sarah Jane. I'm not, not anymore. I'm...I'm happy _now_. I'm... I'm really glad I met John, although I wish the circumstances had been different," she looked down and smiled. "But I'm not scared, and I'm not alone."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Rose answered out of habit. "Astrid!" Rose stood up and went to her friend.

"Rose! Oh, I'm so glad you're here! I knew it was just a rumor that you'd run off with Scary Saxon!"

Rose shook her head and laughed quietly. "That's a new one," she said to John.

Astrid shook her head and smiled at John. "So this is your handsome bloke. I overheard Mickey talkin' to Jake. He said you were seeing someone."

"Yes, I am. Astrid, this is John Smith. He's my... he's my fiancé. And..." Rose paused. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh. Oh! Well... Right. Congratulations." Astrid hugged her awkwardly.

"It's okay, Astrid, don't be weird about it." Rose sensed her friend's self-consciousness. "It was unexpected. I think you're the only one who doesn't read the tabloids, if you didn't know about that..."

The woman relaxed somewhat, and then Rose told her of Van Statten's scheme, but assured Astrid that when the time came for Rose to leave due to her pregnancy, she would fight for Astrid's permanent position in the role.

"Isn't it time for you to get ready?" Rose asked, looking at the clock on the wall. "We'll let you get to it. I'll see you next week, alright?"

They said their goodbyes, and Rose and John left Sarah Jane and Astrid to their preparations.

Once the couple left the dressing room, Rose turned to John and started to giggle.

"Wot?" he asked, confused.

Rose shook her head. "I was gettin' jealous of you and Sarah Jane."

John waggled his eyebrows. "I _am_ very foxy."

"Very..." she flirted right back.

oOo

John and Rose ran into a paparazzo as they emerged out the Notting Hill tube stop. The photographer lost interest after following them for a block, and they were able to walk to his home in peace, hand-in-hand.

"How you feeling?" he asked her as he unlocked the door to let them in. "You look a bit pale."

Rose dashed for the toilet without answering. John followed her, stood outside of the bathroom door and leaned on the wall, listening as Rose wretched, unsure what to do. Should he go in and comfort her? Give her privacy?

"Rose?" he asked quietly through the ajar door. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No..." she answered feebly.

"Can... Can I come in?"

Rose didn't answer.

"Please?" John asked, hesitantly.

"Alright," she replied quietly.

John opened the door slowly, and his heart fell as he saw Rose leaning over the toilet, weak from vomiting. He retrieved a clean flannel from the shelf under the sink, wetted it with cool water, and folded it. He drew Rose's hair to the side, and draped the cold cloth over her neck. He sat down next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned on the old claw-footed tub. He rubbed her back as she continued to lose the contents of her stomach.

John took all of Rose's messy blonde hair into one hand, pulling it off and away from her face, as he whispered soothing words into her ear. She sat back onto her heels, and then pulled a wad of toilet tissue from the roll and wiped her mouth. John pulled her into his arms and held her until her stomach settled.

"I don't suppose you'll be wanting any supper," he stated quietly after fifteen minutes of silent comforting.

She shook her head and leaned on his chest. "Maybe some dry toast."

He stood and slowly pulled her up. He waited while she rinsed her mouth, and then he led her to the bedroom - his bedroom. John pulled back the bedding, and prompted her to climb in.

"But this is your-"

"No arguments. No more lumpy guest mattress for you."

"But-"

He silenced her with a soft kiss, ignoring the fact that her breath smelled of sick. He unzipped her hoodie and pulled it off, tossing it aside, and then he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed down so that she was sitting on the side of the bed. He left, closing the door behind.

Rose pulled off her denims and slid between the crisp white sheets without another word. She curled up onto her side and smiled as she breathed in the scent of John Smith lingering on the pillow. When John returned with dry whole wheat toast and a glass of milk, Rose was fast asleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, Rose awoke with a chill in John's bed and saw that the drapes were moving in the night breeze; the window was wide open. She got up, remembering that she was still wearing her t-shirt, bra and knickers. Her pyjamas were hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and she needed to use the loo, so she made her way down the hall.

"Rose, you alright?" John's sleepy voice called from the second bedroom. He got up and peeked out of the door.

"I got cold. Was just going to put on my jim-jams."

"I was afraid you were sick again."

"No. I'm okay. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

There was no answer for a moment. "I can't sleep," he finally replied. "Why didn't you tell me how awful this mattress is," he said with a snicker.

Rose leaned on the door frame outside of his door, fighting with herself, and then it was settled in her mind. "You could... you could sleep with me?"

He didn't answer. Rose heard his steady breathing.

"You have to sleep John, you can't just lay there all night starin' at the ceiling. I'll trade back. I didn't have any troubles in that bed. Didn't seem lumpy to me..."

Rose kept her eyes on his face as he timidly emerged, wearing only his boxer briefs. John's hair was endearingly messy, and he looked exhausted.

"You sure?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah. I promise I won't jump you in your sleep or anything. I do have _some_ self control, you know," she joked.

"I don't," he said with a wry smile.

"I don't believe you," she replied sweetly. "I'm just going to go change, alright? When I get back, I want to see you in your own bed."

While Rose was changing into her pyjamas, John slipped pyjama bottoms on as well. He could not remember the last time he had worn actual sleepwear to bed, but he knew exposing so much skin while sharing a bed with Rose would be torture, even if she was safely covered in ducky-printed flannel.

Shyly, they slipped into bed together, chastely apart. Much faster than either thought they would, they both fell asleep, but like magnets, as soon as they drifted into slumber, they found each others arms, and held on tightly until daybreak.

oOo

Jackie felt like the walking dead as she checked into the boutique hotel near her daughter's flat. She had not yet called Rose. She wanted to keep the element of surprise on her side, but first, she needed food and sleep, in that order. She ordered a bacon sarnie and fruit to be delivered to her room, and then perused the variety of newspapers, both serious and sensational, which were fanned out on the coffee table in the sitting room of the suite. Pete loved to tease Jackie about her for her tabloid habit, but the _National Enquirer_ never did quite measure up in her mind to the British tabloids.

She picked up a copy of her favorite red top, _The Sun_, and leafed through it as she ate. Rose's angry face stared back at her from page four. She was hanging tightly onto a tall, thin man in a brown pinstriped suit. Both were trying to avoid the camera. _"Rosie Preggers! Baby Daddy Genius Mad Scientist!"_

Jackie knew her daughter was popular in Britain, but seeing her face on the tabloid websites didn't carry the same emotional weight as seeing it in print in a traditional tabloid. She forced herself to skim the article, but couldn't finish it.

"Oh Rose..." Jackie sighed and tossed the paper aside with a mixture of anger and sympathy. She had now lost her appetite, so she peeled off her tracksuit and climbed into bed, teary-eyed. Tomorrow morning, she'd find out where exactly this John Smith lived or worked, and introduce his cheek to the palm of her hand.

oOo

At six forty-five am, the clock radio next to John switched on. John and Rose slowly opened their eyes to the sound of _West End Girls_ playing quietly. They smiled as they realized the entanglement of their limbs. Neither pulled away, as both felt safe and comforted. Rose felt no morning sickness, but she was very hungry, having not eaten anything for nearly eighteen hours.

Rose spoke first. "Good morning."

"Hello," John answered softly. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked.

"Letting me stay with you last night. I feel much better."

"I feel good, too. Maybe... maybe we could make this a habit?" she asked, biting her lip shyly.

"Doesn't that sort of break our rule of walking before we run?" he asked.

"Not if we don't run." She smiled, a hint of her pink tongue peeking between her teeth.

"How long do you suppose that's going to last?" He honestly knew that he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

"John, there is something we haven't talked about. When are we going to... uh... get married?" She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"When do you want to?"

"I... I'd like to do it soon."

"We're going to have to post banns, whether church or civil ceremony. It's going to be a couple of weeks at the shortest."

"Which do you want? Church or civil?"

"I haven't attended church in years, Rose."

"Me neither. I suppose a civil ceremony then."

"Let's go register today, what do you say?" John turned onto his side, and propped his head on his hand. There was a twinkle in his eye.

"Okay," Rose said, rather nervous, but genuinely excited at the prospect. "We're going to really do this, aren't we?" she asked with a smile.

"Mmm hmm. We can go to the registrar's office before we head to the book shop."

With haste, they ate breakfast, showered, dressed and headed out, met by a ubiquitous paparazzo, at whom they waved and smiled. Swinging their clasped hands, they headed for the Notting Hill tube station. They were at the registrar's office before it opened, and were first in the queue. Completing the paperwork didn't take long, and they were assigned a date and time for their ceremony: two weeks and one day from that day.

Of course, as was always the case, the news of their intent to marry was leaked by a clerk without scruples, and within an hour, the news of their plan was on the morning radio shows and on the red tops' websites. Rose and John knew this would happen, and frankly, neither of them cared very much that the world knew that they were soon to be man and wife.

oOo

Jackie Tyler had always been an early riser, but today she allowed herself to sleep in until eight, in order to catch up on necessary lost sleep from the timezone change. She read through the article, carefully this time, and saw that John owned a book shop in Notting Hill.

"Flat Earth Books please, in Notting Hill," she told the taxi cab driver.

* * *

Just when things are looking up for our dear Rose and John, Hurricane Jackie blows into London.


	9. Chapter 9

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 9**

Rose felt more a peace than she had in months. The debilitating fears that had shackled her - the surprise pregnancy, the threatened loss of her career, and that diabolical manager of hers, Harold Saxon - the worry stemming from these things had dissipated into nothing more than wispy memories. She didn't care that the news of their impending nuptials would be in the gossip columns. Her parents had found out about the baby in a less than optimal way, but the fact that they knew was a relief. Her affection for John was growing by the hour, and she was optimistic about their chance at happiness.

The man to her right, the devastatingly handsome man who was holding her hand, had effectively become her knight in shining armor. As she glanced at him, and could not help but break out into a brilliant smile, her full heart warm and content.

"What's got you smiling so?" asked John as he caught a glimpse of her.

"Happy, I guess," she shrugged, minimizing just how intensely joyful she truly was.

"Me too," he said with a grin. He removed his hand from her grasp, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side as they made their way down the pavement, dodging pedestrians and vendors. "I have something for you." John dug into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a set of keys. "You'll be needing these...home and shop."

"Thanks," she replied, quietly grateful. She stopped, and pulled him into an affectionate hug.

"You do know there is a fee for these keys, don't you?" he asked once they had resumed their walk towards his book shop.

"What's that?" She grinned, her tongue to peeking through her teeth.

"Oh, I'm going to put you to work." He pretended to voice a television advertisement. "Come see Rose Tyler, Flat Earth Books' very own celebrity shop girl!" he teased.

"Oh, I see how it is. You're using my fame for your financial gain," she joked, nudging him with her shoulder.

"You've seen right through me. I concede defeat," he replied, dramatically.

They continued to tease and flirt the rest of the way to Flat Earth Books. Once they arrived, John prompted Rose to let them in using her own key. Her hands were subtly shaking as she inserted the brass key, warm from tightly clutching it in her pocket, into the lock of the midnight blue door.

"Dunno why I'm nervous," said Rose as she turned the key.

"Maybe it isn't nerves...maybe it's anticipation..." he suggested, his voice thick and low.

The latch clicked, the door squeaked, and the bell tinkled quietly as she slowly pushed the door open. She stepped in and John slowly shut the door closed behind them.

"How do I turn on the lights?" she asked.

"Not ready to turn 'em on yet. Shop isn't open for another fifteen minutes..." John's voice was even more heavy now.

Rose's heart skipped a beat, and butterflies fluttered low in her belly as she saw the look in his eyes. Her guess at his intent was fulfilled when he pulled Rose to him, and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and languid, just verging on passionate, but not quite crossing the line. Before he pulled away, he let his soft lips rest on the corner of her mouth as they simply breathed together, resting in the shared warmth of their embrace. John bumped his nose against hers before he stole his lips away.

Rose wasn't quite breathless, but she was definitely warm right to the center of her being. She sighed and leaned her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. "Do we really have to open the shop today?" she asked quietly, with a chuckle.

"If you want me to be able to pay the mortgage," John replied, without a trace of bitterness, though sincere. He pulled her over to the small seating area that was set up near the front window, and they dropped down on the dark blue sofa for two.

"Rose, I know you are used to a glamorous life...dinners out at the trendiest of the trendy night spots, going clubbing, popping into the shops to buy what you want without thinking about your checking account balance...I can't give you that, and I'm sorry," John said, apologetically.

"John," she turned and stroked his sideburn. "Don't ever apologize for that. None of that was me, not really. Sure being treated like a pop princess was fun...for a while, well, until Harry turned it into one big performance. And I won't lie. Being able to buy a jumper on a whim is nice, and I don't find anything particularly romantic about wondering where my next meal is coming from. I've done that. It's hard. I grew up _real_ humble, John. Mum and me, we lived in a council flat. I understand having to work hard. I saw Mum work her fingers to the bone doing hair just to pay the rent, to keep food in the fridge. I'm not above hard work, John. For all I know, when my belly gets too big, and they don't want me to be Eliza Doolittle anymore, my career may be gone forever. And you know what? I'm okay with that. How many people get to say they got to do what I did even for a little while, yeah? Not many. I'm grateful, and..." Rose stopped her when she saw that John wasn't simply listening to her, he was staring. "What?"

John swallowed hard. "Rose Tyler, you are..." He breathed in deeply and released a shuddering breath. "You are brilliant." He stopped again, furrowed his brow and turned towards her. "I haven't talked much about my ex-wife. Do you mind if I tell you a little bit about her? Maybe it will explain a few things about me and maybe you'll understand why I'm...I'm...so," he swallowed hard. "Why I'm so excited to get married in two weeks."

Rose nodded, and John sighed, nervous.

"I met Renee Fisher while I was still a professor. It was at a holiday cocktail party. She was seeing the dean of my department at the time, my good friend, Clive Winters. I'm not gonna lie. Renee was, and _is_ beautiful, and at the time, I thought that she was the most intelligent, fascinating creature I had ever met. And here she was, paying attention to _me_, the geeky professor. When we were together, she made me feel like I was the most important man in the universe...the only man in the universe, even. And...and I'm not proud of this next bit, Rose. We saw each other behind Clive's back. They weren't married or even engaged, but it wasn't right. He broke it off with her soon after that and I lost a good friend in him."

Rose nervously picked at her fingernails, not quite meeting John's eyes. He tipped her face back to his with a fingertip under her chin. "Rose, you have nothing to worry about, I promise."

"Alright..."

He cleared his throat and then held Rose's hands in his to still her nervousness. "We made our relationship public then. Mother loved her, of course. But Donna, Shaun, Jack...they _all_ warned me about her, said she was a self-centered, greedy social climber. Even Clive warned me. But I was stubborn, and proud and didn't listen. We were married in a big society wedding. She paid for it," he laughed wryly. "But soon things changed. She wasn't satisfied with our flat, and wanted a house in Notting Hill. She was practicing divorce law at the time... Not tawdry little divorces, mind, but the kind that you see unfold in _The Sun_. People with lots of money. Celebrities, financiers, that set. So we found this house, bought it, well when I say bought, I mean we got a big, fat mortgage. She said it would be more financially savvy in the long run rather than liquidating all of our assets and paying for it outright. Long story short, the shop happened, I resigned my professorship, and...then...she left." He enunciated the 't'.

"John, I'm so sorry. She really sounds like a..." Rose halted.

"Sounds like a what? Go ahead, I really don't mind. Believe me. I've heard her described in every deprecating way, mostly from Donna."

"Oh, I bet she's got a mouth on her," Rose said with a half smile. "Alright then. She's an ungrateful, blind, bitch who didn't know who she had, and her loss is my gain."

"Not the worst I've heard."

"Really John, I don't see what you see in me," Rose said nervously. "I'm just this silly former bubblegum pop singer who happened to have a stepdad with connections and ended up play acting for a job. I'm gonna get big as a house, my cute figure is going to be gone, I'm gonna get stretch marks, and grumpy and-"

"Maybe. But you're also going to give birth to a miracle, Rose. A baby. Ours. And yes, we got it backwards. But I don't regret it. Renee didn't want children. She told me after we were married, of course, but I never asked her about it before, either." John looked out the window. The once sunny day was gone. Typical London weather had rolled in, and drizzle was sputtering against the glass.

"Did you? Did you want children?" Rose asked quietly, once again picking her nails, which were now in dire need of a manicure. Harry always lectured her about the nervous habit.

"I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. I know one thing, I am so glad I didn't have them with _her_."

"What...what about now? If we had just, I don't know, met in the park one day, gotten along, dated for a while, gotten married...would...do you think you'd have wanted 'em? Kids?" she asked nervously.

"With you? Yes," he said earnestly, without hesitation.

She looked up from her lap. "I'm glad," she said, barely above a whisper.

John caressed her cheek and moved to kiss her again. Their lips met but the kiss was stopped before it really had a chance to begin when the door opened and was slammed shut by an furious blonde woman.

"So you're Dr. John Smith. I want a word with you!" Jackie Tyler stood in the darkened doorway, hands on hips, blue eyes flashing.

"Mum?" squeaked Rose.

"I'll be talking to you next, Rose Marion Tyler!" she said, her red-tipped fingernail pointed directly at Rose's face.

"Mum, I...what are you doing here? In London? When did you-" she asked nervously.

"Rose, it's alright," John interrupted, softly touching her shoulder. "Why don't you go in back and make yourself a cup of tea. I'm sure your mother has some things she wants to say to me." John stood up proudly, and kissed Rose on the head, never taking his eyes off of his future mother-in-law.

Jackie looked at him, squinting as she sized him up in the dimness of the unlit shop. The possessiveness of the chaste kiss didn't get past the woman.

Rose went into the back room and left John and her mother to battle it out.

"Why ain't the lights on? You takin' advantage of my daughter? Wait, you already did that, didn't you?" said Jackie bitterly.

He frowned and stood up, casually putting his hands into his pockets, hoping Jackie didn't see the blush on his face at his memory of the kiss they had shared a few minutes before. "We wanted to have a talk before the store opened. The switch is behind your left shoulder. Turn them on if you'd like," he said flatly.

Jackie glared at him, and then switched on the lights. "Why is she here even. Why ain't she at the theatre? or sleepin' in after last night's show?" Jackie asked, suspiciously.

"She has the week off. Her ex-manager drove her to the point of exhaustion. I didn't think she would want to just sit around her flat, and she frankly didn't feel safe there, what with Saxon threatening her. She's staying with me now. I'm keeping her safe."

"You're shacking up?" Jackie hollered. "You've known my barely-of-age daughter for one month and you've already knocked her up, probably made her lose her role in the hottest show in London, and convinced her to live with you? You bloody Casanova!"

"Mum, it's not like that at all!" Rose came barreling out of the back room, tired of the accusatory tone her mother was taking with John. "Mum, we're getting married. In two weeks. I'm just staying at-"

"Oh...my...gods. You are what?" Jackie asked, her voice low, and nearly rumbling.

"You heard me. John and I are getting married." Rose crossed her arms, suddenly feeling defiant.

"You are not gonna marry this...mad scientist..._gigilo_! Just look at 'im Rose! He's nearly twice your age! He's after you for your money, he is! And your inheritance. You better watch what he puts in your tea!"

"What?" John said, fists clenched, face contorted in complete wonderment at the wild accusations coming from the woman. "I can assure you Mrs. Tyler, that I am not...not..." He shook his head, almost wanting to laugh at the idiocy of the line of questioning.

Rose spoke up. "Oh, he does not want my money. And poison me? Seriously Mum? You been watchin' too much _Law & Order_ again, ain't ya?"

"It's a good show, Rose. Based on true events!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I don't care about his age, Mum! Yeah, we made a really stupid mistake a month ago, but since then, since John and I met again, and I mean _really_ met a few days ago...I haven't been so happy in a long time. Please." Rose closed her eyes and balled her fists. "Give John a chance. He has already proven himself to me."

"He's proven himself...in two days..." Jackie shook her head in disbelief.

"If I might say something," John said, stepping forward, "I'm not in love with your daughter, Mrs. Tyler." John had a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Jackie opened her mouth to protest, but John held up his hand.

"But I know I will be. Personally, I don't believe that it's probable to fall in love in a day, but I do think it's _possible_, and even highly probable in our case, to know without a doubt that it _will_ happen. I already _respect_ Rose more than any other woman I have ever known. She stood up to her devil of a manager. She decided on her own to see this pregnancy through. I respect her for making a career for herself, and I will support whatever she decides to do after this baby arrives. And Jackie, I will be a _good_ father. Our child will never doubt how much I love, cherish and value him or her."

Jackie uncrossed her arms, and her breathing had calmed down. Her chest was no longer heaving in fury.

"Alright then, tell me how you gonna support them? What if Rose decides she wants to be home with the baby, hmm? What if she wants to go back and get her A Levels? What if-"

"Yes, Mrs. Tyler, I will. It's not like I'm exactly destitute, now is it? I'm already coming up with plans to make sure my family is well cared for. I plan on selling the this shop and going back to teaching."

"What?" asked Rose, surprised. "But...but do you even want to teach again?"

"I never wanted to quit but Renee made it impossible for me to stay."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Jackie. "Who's Renee?"

"My ex-wife," he replied plainly.

"You're divorced. Well of course you are," huffed Jackie, ire building once again.

"Mum, it's not what you think. It really wasn't his fault! Honest!"

"Oh, it never is, Rose," sneered Jackie.

"I don't expect you to respect me, Mrs. Tyler. You have no reason to._Yet_," he added confidently. "But know this: I want this baby to know that his or her father cared enough about him or her to care about his or her mother, to marry her, to not turn his back on her."

She was speechless. She had no comeback, no witty reply. She simply sat down on the sofa and stared out the window.

"Aren't you gonna say anything Mum?" Rose asked nervously.

"Yeah, looks like you've got a customer, Dr. Smith," Jackie said, looking at a man coming through the door.

A heavy-set gentleman who was looked like he was just on the far side of fifty lumbered into the shop. His long gray hair was gathered into a tidy ponytail, lashed with a leather lace. He was sporting an expensive leather, cross-body, messenger-style bag. His brown, oilskin, Dover coat was dripping from his apparent trudge through the now-heavy rain, and little puddles were forming on the black and white tile floor in the entryway.

Rose stepped forward, bravely, wanting to prove herself capable in both her mother's eyes and John's. "Can I help ya find something?" she asked, with a slightly forced smile.

"Sure, missy. Where's the section on Australia. I'm plannin' on goin' on walkabout this fall, and I need ta know what I'm doin'."

"Looks like ya got your coat sorted," she said with a grin.

The man chuckled and nodded. "Gift from my wife. Thinks I need ta look the part."

"John, where's the Australia section?" she asked under her breath.

He winked, and inclined his head to the left and back of the shop. Quickly, she found the section. As John moved to sit by Jackie, the man followed Rose. She showed him the area devoted to the southern continent, and he crouched down to peruse the bottom two shelves wherein the section would be found.

Rose returned to her mother and John. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mum? He has your favorite, it's his too, in fact."

"Tea is not gonna solve this, Rose." Jackie sat rigidly on the sofa, refusing to meet Rose's eyes. "And don't try ta butter me up by sayin' we like the same kinda tea. An' I can make my own tea! Where's the bloody electric kettle?"

Rose sighed, and headed to the back of the shop, and Jackie followed. John decided to stay in the front of the shop and let the women hash things out.

Rose thrust a square tin of expensive tea at Jackie. "Here. Go ahead, make your own tea," Rose said with a churlish frown.

"Mind your cheek, young lady," Jackie replied with condescension, as if speaking to a surly fourteen year old.

Rose shook her head in frustration as they waited for the water to boil.

"He's too old for you," Jackie reiterated.

"Dad was ten years older than you when you got married, Mum, and before you say I'm too young, you were younger than me when you married him." That hit a nerve.

Jackie harrumphed, but did look at Rose.

"He's divorced," said Jackie, nose tipped upwards.

"His wife left him for another man, and practically robbed him blind...legally took almost everything. They weren't even married more than a year," Rose defended.

"That proves he has bad judgment!"

"Oh, 'ta, Mum," Rose said sarcastic and hurt. "So John wantin' ta marry me shows he has bad taste..."

Jackie's lower lip quivered as the emotional dam finally broke. "You had a drunken one night stand, Rose! How could you? You've thrown _everything_ away! Everything you worked so hard for since you was a just a kid!" Jackie screeched just as the kettle whistled. Angry tears formed in her eyes, and then dam finally broke as the water boiled and sputtered in the small white appliance.

"Mum, I know we need to talk about this, but please, not here..." Rose looked down, sadly, brows furrowed.

"When then? Where? I want to talk about this now! I flew overnight all the way from LA to come and see you," Jackie said, half hurt, half angry as she batted tears away.

"Mum, I really can't. Not here. _Please."_

"Rose, Mrs. Tyler, why don't you go back to the house and talk there. I can hold down the fort."

Some time during their argument, John had made his way towards the back of the shop, and was standing just outside of the back room, and neither Rose nor Jackie had heard him arrive.

"Did the Crocodile Dundee wannabe buy anything?" asked Rose, not acknowledging John's suggestion.

"Yep. Three ridiculously expensive books, with information held within which he could have easily gained on the Internet. Not complaining, though." John smiled.

Rose returned her attention to Jackie. "Mum, I think John is right. We need to talk about this in private. Why don't we go there, yeah?"

Jackie agreed, but then turned to John. "You aren't off the hook, Mister. Just wait 'til you get home. I'll be waitin' for you."

"I have no doubt, Jackie Tyler, that I am definitely in for it," John said with an odd smile on his face which Jackie, for some reason, knew was respect.

Rose hugged John goodbye, and then kissed him on the cheek, the first time she had ever wished him goodbye in such a fashion. It felt natural. "I'll see ya later _Doctor." _Rose was determined to do all she could to bolster up John Smith in her mother's eyes.

oOo

"Alright. Spill it. I want every dirty detail."

"Mother!" Rose screeched, protesting the implication.

"Not _those_ details," Jackie said, holding up her hands.

"Mum, ya know, I was the one who called ya, and I tried to tell you on the phone, you're the one who passed the phone off on Pete," said Rose as she poured herself a glass of water. Her mother had already, at her insistence, made her own cup of tea.

"Pete talked ta me after you called, but I was so mad I wasn't payin' attention. And then that courier dropped off that parcel with the ultrasound picture and...anyway..."

"Can we at least sit down?"

"Yeah, I suppose it'd be better than leanin' against the counter in this tiny kitchen," Jackie said sourly.

"Mum, this kitchen is twice as big as what I had growin' up."

"You complaining about what you had growing up? You never complained before!"

"And you never were a snob before!"

"I ain't a snob, Rose! I don't want you stuck in a council flat _alone! _Taking care of a screamin', snot covered two year old when _himself_ decides he don't wanna be a father no more!"

Rose stared at her mother, speechless, and then shook her head. "He's not like that! John is different! He told me, right away...he told me he didn't want his child to grow up wondering why his father didn't want him!" Rose replied, emotions raw. She was suddenly feeling nauseated. Her hand went to her mouth, a silent signal to her mother, and she hurried to the toilet.

Her mother followed her into the small room, and rubbed her daughter's back as she was sick. When Rose was done, Jackie helped her stand up, guided her to the sink so she could rinse her mouth, and then cleared a stray lock of hair away from Rose's eye.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you onto the sofa," Jackie said kindly.

Rose pinched her lips hard, to stop herself from crying. Her mother's words before - that John may one day become tired of a young wife and baby - had stung, whether she believed it or not. Rose hunched over, and fell onto her mother's shoulder.

"Oh Mum, I've needed you so bad, and...and I was so afraid to tell you about the baby. The way it happened...I was so stupid. I'd never had a one night stand before. Ever. Hadn't even...even slept with anyone since Jimmy, and I didn't even want to be with him, not really...I wasn't thinking. I just liked John so much, and he liked me, and...and...it just happened. The paparazzi had been hounding me something awful, and Saxon had become such a beast, and even though I was never alone, not really..." Rose turned to look at her mother. "But with all those people around, I think maybe...maybe I was lonely, and John filled that hole. We just fit together, you know?"

"It's alright, sweetheart, let it out. I'm here, and I'm not gonna lecture you no more."

Rose and Jackie conversed for hours. After many tears, a few giggles, words of forgiveness, and hugs, they came to an understanding. Jackie knew that Rose had made up her mind to marry John Smith, despite Jackie's serious misgivings. But from what Rose had told her about John, Jackie couldn't deny that both her daughter and future son-in-law were thinking clearly, and while they were being hasty, they were not necessarily being _foolish_. Furthermore, Jackie had no doubt that John Smith was an honorable man. That didn't mean she had to _like_ him, and Jackie Tyler made that very clear to her daughter.

"I think you should eat something, Sweetheart, it's been hours since you got sick. Not healthy for you or the baby to go so long without eatin'."

"Thanks Mum," Rose said genuinely.

Jackie returned a few minutes later with fruit, a few chunks of cheese, a slice of hearty whole grain bread and glass of milk. "Here ya go. When I was pregnant with Tony, remember how I always was cravin' fruit?"

"I somehow remember you craved crunchy _Cheetos_," Rose said with a sly smile.

"Those too...and raspberry Pop Tarts, but they had to be the frosted ones with the sugar sprinkles. Don't eat too much junk food, Rose, I promise, you'll regret it when you step on that scale at the doctor's office and have to explain why you've gained twice as much as you were supposed to," said Jackie as she popped a strawberry into her mouth.

The front door rattled, and John burst through, dropping his sopping wet, brown overcoat into a heap on the floor. "Youtube...my laptop...turn...it on...we...we..." he called out in a jumble of words and heaving breaths. "I ran here...as fast as I...could..." John swallowed hard as he wiped his glistening forehead with his shirtsleeve. "Donna...Donna called...How dare he!" he said angrily

Rose looked at John, both worried and confused. She tried to turn on his Macbook, and as he has reprimanded himself for before, the battery was dead. She plugged it into the wall and tried again.

John grabbed it from her, wrestled with the cord and dropped onto the sofa between Rose and Jackie.

"Come on, come on!" he muttered impatiently as it booted up. As soon as his wallpaper appeared, the image of the Rosette Nebula, he opened his email, and clicked on video embedded in the message from Donna.

Grainy video of Jackie and Rose in the stockroom arguing filled the screen.

"_You had a drunken one night stand, Rose! How could you!? You've thrown it all away! Everything you worked so hard for since you was a just a kid!" _

"_Mum, I know we need to talk about this, but please, not here at John's shop..."_

"_Sod Flat Earth Books! When then? Where? I want to talk about this now! I flew overnight all the way from LA to come and see you."_

Rose, John and Jackie stared at the silent screen.

"Australia man," said Rose, blank-faced.

"Yep," agreed the Doctor. "He paid in cash. No one uses cash anymore, not for nearly a hundred pound in books."

"I'm gonna be sick again." Rose hurried into the bathroom.

Jackie moved to follow her, but John gently placed his hand on Jackie's shoulder.

"I'll help her," he said authoritatively.

Jackie could hear Rose retching, and John's words of comfort. Finally Rose stopped, and John guided her out of the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry," said Jackie.

"Oh, don't worry Mum, like you said, I gotta eat. I don't think the food set me off. It was the video..."

"No, I'm sorry about the video...I aired your private business in public. This is all my fault." The suddenly contrite woman stood up and picked up her handbag. "Would you call me a taxi, please? I think I want to go back to my hotel now."

"Mrs. Tyler, this isn't your fault. Rose is constantly hounded by paparazzi. This was bound to happen, unfortunately." John tugged on his ear, and then wrapped his arm around Rose, pulling her in closely to his side.

"Mum, I'm not mad at you. John and I know the truth, and the only thing I care about is the here and now. What's done is done, and John and I are going to move forward and-"

"And make a wonderful life for each other and our child," John interrupted. He made a funny sound in the back of his throat. "Know what? Free advertising! Mrs. Tyler, you said the name of the shop! Look at the hit count! 5,321!" he said with a bit of a squeal.

"Oooo! Look what this gingergoddess99 person said," Rose pointed to a comment and read out loud. "To the idiot who secretly taped this: you should be strung up by your toes and dangled over an active volcano. You don't know the facts. Leave these two beautiful people alone. Let them have their beautiful baby in private."

John tugged his ear. "_Gingergoddess99_ is Donna."

Rose sputtered a laugh. "She thinks you're beautiful," Rose sing-songed.

"Oh, but we _are_ beautiful." He waggled his eyebrows.

They both giggled, to Jackie's amazement, having moved on from the embarrassment, lost in their own little world of happiness. She knew it was time to leave. "Good night, sweetheart. May I see you tomorrow?" Jackie asked, sincere.

"Sure. I'll be at John's shop. Maybe you could hang around a bit? And then go out and do some shopping in Notting Hill? We could have lunch."

"Mrs. Tyler, if I might impose. I'd like you to meet my twin sister, Donna. I think the two of you will get along really well. You can ask Donna anything, and I promise, you will get a straight answer. She won't sugar coat anything about me."

"Alright then. I think I like that idea. Getting the scoop straight from the source."

"Dinner tomorrow night then. I'll cook."

Rose smiled to herself, feeling even more secure in her happiness.

John arranged for a taxi for Jackie while Rose called emailed Donna back, to thank her for the comment.

The horn tooted signaling the arrival of Jackie's ride. John and Rose walked her out, and Jackie climbed into the taxi.

"Call me Jackie. No more Mrs. Tyler."

"Thank you, Jackie," John said with a smile.

John shut the door for her, and Rose waved good bye. The taxi pulled away from the kerb, and Jackie watched as John put his arm around Rose's back, and guided her up the stairs and through the dark blue six panel door of what was now their home. Jackie had accepted their relationship. She didn't have a choice, not really. Rose was an adult, and had earned the right to make her own choices. Her daughter _was_ getting married.

Jackie wasn't nearly as worried about Rose's choice of a partner in life as she had been only a few hours before. John Smith really did seem to be a _good_ man: honest, decent and hard working. He obviously cared deeply for her daughter, and even if they hadn't admitted it to each other, Jackie Tyler could see that they were, indeed, in love. They proclaimed it loudly with every action, look, gentle touch, and laugh. Words may not have been said, but their actions said what was hiding in their hearts.

Jackie pressed speed dial number one on her mobile. "Pete, I think you need to come. How soon can you and Tony get here?"

"I'm hungry, Jacks. Waddya want for dinner?"

"What?"

"I'll order room service, and it'll be ready by the time you get here."

"You're in London?"

"Aww, Jacks, I couldn't stay away from our girl. She needs us. I hopped the first flight I could. Chunk of money. Hope you don't mind, and I'm gonna need clothes too. Never even left the airport. Blimey, I hate shopping, too."

"Oh, you plum," said Jackie with a smile and hitch in her voice. "I'll be there as quick as I can Pete Tyler! Order me a big juicy steak. With chips."

"Driver, there's a big tip for ya if ya can get me to my hotel in less than fifteen minutes."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

* * *

Thank you my lovely readers for your continued support.


	10. Chapter 10

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 10**

"'Ello?"

The voice on the other end of the line from John was groggy and thick, jarred from sleep. "Mrs. Tyler? This is John. Rose's John..." John waited through the silence.

"Is something wrong with Rose?" Jackie couldn't imagine any other reason why John Smith would be ringing her mobile at seven o'clock in the morning.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! Nothing is _wrong_," he emphasized. "She's fine and dandy. Well, when I say fine, I mean, not really feeling very well. I was wondering if you might be able to come over to my house and take care of her? I have to be at the shop early today to accept my weekly book delivery, and I don't really want her to be alone."

"Morning sickness?" Jackie asked, now fully awake.

"Yes, but happens any time of day, it seems, unfortunately. She was sick much of the night last night."

"Well, she is about twelve weeks along." Jackie sighed. "If she's anything like me, she is in for a long couple of months, the poor thing."

"Is there anything I can do help her feel better?"

"Well, there are some natural remedies, but they don't work for everyone, and lots of old wives tales. Do you keep ginger ale at your place?"

"I should have some, but it's the cheap store brand," he explained.

"All the better. It ain't as sweet. What about lemon sweeties?

"I don't keep candy in the house as a general rule, except jelly babies."

"Well they aren't any help. Licorice? Ginger biscuits?"

"Sounds like I'll be making a stop at Sainsbury's on the way home."

"I'll write up a list, and if she is feeling well enough, I'll go out on my own and pick a few things up from a corner market."

"Thanks Jackie, for being civil with me, and for at least making an effort to accept me as your future son-in-law."

"Thanks for thinking to call _me_, John." Jackie's voice was sympathetic and kind, and this time, in her imagination, John didn't have a target painted on his left cheek. In fact, John Smith's worth had just grown exponentially.

Jackie ended the call, and turned to her still sleeping, jet-lagged husband. Instead of waking him, she left a note embellished with a pink lipstick kiss.

_Pete, Rose is sick. Going to go and see to her. Call me when you wake up. I have a job for you. Love and snuggles, Jacks_

Tony was still asleep, so she left him with Pete so she could give her undivided attention to Rose.

OOo

"Good morning Donna Noble-Temple!" John said cheerfully as his twin entered the shop. "You must've gotten up awfully early be here at this time to day."

"You're putting up a good front, considering that video mess," said Donna, as she handed her brother a strong, sweet, milky espresso creation from the cafe around the corner.

"I'm fine. Why? Shouldn't I be?" he asked, wondering why she was using _that_ tone of voice, the one she reserved for moments of pure sympathy.

"You haven't seen the papers yet, have you?"

"Oh no, it finally happened, didn't it?" he said, dramatically slapping his hands against cheeks in mock fear. "Did the world markets crash? No! The Euro finally collapsed under the strain of global economic instability. Oh wait! A UFO crashed into the Thames after bouncing off of Big Ben. I knew it would happen someday!" he grinned cheekily.

"Oh shut it. Why do I even ask? Go to _The Sun's_ website, and click on entertainment news."

"Ahhh, _The Sun_. No wonder I don't know what you're talking about. Rose and I made a promise to each other that we wouldn't purposefully seek out any tabloid stories about ourselves. We don't want to contribute to the financial health of organizations which promote the culture of celebrity stalking by initiating a hit count, thereby allowing said organization to charge more for advertisement space."

"Would you just do it without getting all sanctimonious? Oh never mind, I'll do it myself," she half shouted, giving a firm shove to his shoulder so that he and his wheeled task stool rolled into the wall with a thud.

"_Secretly Filmed Vid Posted to YouTube Deflowers Reputation Of Not So Innocent Rose Tyler_," she read, while fingering the screen, which irritated John even more than the ride on the stool.

"We already saw the video, _you_ sent us a link." John wiped the screen of his iMac with a microfiber cloth. "Not my favorite piece of cinema to be perfectly honest. Terrible production values...grainy, wobbly camera, and not in that artsy indie film sort of way, either."

Donna rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head. "Read the _article_, dumbo."

"Blimey, you're violent this morning." John pulled his black-rimmed spectacles from his pocket, and leaned closer to the screen._ "In a tearful admission to her mother, Rose Tyler admits having one night stand with newly divorced and shamed former professor, Dr. John Smith of Notting Hill. Sources close to the pregnant actress tell us that she may have been the cause of the dissolution of his formerly happy marriage to successful solicitor, Renee Fisher-Smith."_

"I really don't want to read any more of this, Donna, but what did you expect from that paper? The truth? We'll sue them."

"On what grounds? A video posted by a private individual, not by _The Sun_ remember, but by an unknown piece of filth... They just linked to it. Did you know it was posted using some creepy technology that doesn't allow it to be traced?"

"Donna, calm down. Jack will trace it. I called him last night after Rose went to sleep. He's working on it already. And it will be a snap to prove that Rose didn't even know me when I was married to Renee."

"Yeah, that's fine and dandy, but no one cares about retractions, even if you can prove it. All they're going to remember is Rose Tyler, home wrecker." Donna crossed her arms angrily. "Where is your sweet girl anyway?"

"Back at the house. She's been having awfully bad bouts of sick the last day or so. I'm sure the stress of everything isn't helping. I have a feeling she hides her nerves well."

"When's her next ante-natal appointment?"

"Not for another two weeks." John was quiet for a moment. "Her mother flew in, Donna. Came into the shop yesterday to ambush me. Not that I don't deserve it."

"What's she like?" Donna asked, stealing a bite of the pastry that she had brought for her brother.

"Ever seen a documentary on bears?"

"Oh. Mama bear huh?"

"Grrr..." he growled while clawing at the air. "Not that I blame her. Divorced man, nearly twice her daughter's age..._used_ to be a professor...impregnated her daughter during a one night stand...I don't know that I could possible have many more strikes against me, except for incarceration."

"I could add a few more. You're skinnier than a toothpick, like old science fiction programmes and..."

"Thanks ever so for your continued support," he said with a false smile.

"Aww, honey, I'm sorry. Was it really that bad? Couldn't have been worse than it went with _Sylvia._" Donna must have had a follow-up row with the woman, as she too was calling their mother by her first name.

"Thing is, I thought it was going to be a disaster, but...then as she left, she asked me to call her by her first name, Jackie."

"Really? That's interesting. Hmm."

"And you and Shaun are coming to dinner tonight. I told Mrs. Ty...er, Jackie, that she could ask you _anything_ about me. Figured that might butter her parsnips."

"Well now...this should be fun. What time, Spaceman?"

"Seven. You bring dessert. Something that women like."

"Oh you know I will..." Donna said wickedly. "And I'll bring something to eat, too." She winked at her brother.

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny," John replied. "But you may not, and I repeat, not, tell her anything about the time that I blew up the science lab, got it?" he said, pointing at Donna.

"You did say _anything_..." Donna called over her shoulder as she wiggled her fingers goodbye.

The morning passed quickly as an unusually high number of customers came into the shop. John had a sneaking suspicion, though, that they had come to see the man who'd knocked up Rose Tyler, considering the largest purchase of the morning was a 99 P pencil with the name of the shop emblazoned in blue and white.

Around one o'clock, a balding man, slightly older than John, came in navigating an expensive push chair. A smiling toddler pointed at a photograph of a nebula hanging on the wall. "Look! 'tars!"

"Bright boy you have there. Is he your grandson?" asked John, as he casually leaned on the counter.

The man laughed. "No such luck, mate. He's my boy. You ain't the first to ask, though. No worries."

John turned away and pulled a face at his faux pas.

"Looking for anything in particular?" John asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Naw, just browsin'. Was in the neighborhood. My wife said I should come in. I'm sort of a geography and astronomy geek."

"Really?" John was suddenly engaged. "At least you aren't here to gawp at the caged ape in the zoo like everyone else who's com in today."

The man had a confused look on his face, and John smiled wryly, and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Sounds like there's a story to be told." The tyke in the complicated looking stroller started to fuss, so the customer extracted him. He muttered something under his breath about the ridiculousness of the child being strapped in like a fighter pilot.

John sighed. "I'll be pushing one of those in about eight months..." John waved generally at the stroller and smiled. "My...uh...my _Rose_ is expecting." John examined the man with an expression of scrutiny. "You look to be just a bit older than me. What's it like? Being a dad at our age?"

"Tiring, mate. But I'll tell ya one thing. Not as tiring as being a mum is. You taking good care of her? Rubbing her feet? Nagging her to eat right and drink lots of fluids?"

"I'm doing my best, but she's been awful sick. I feel so...so helpless! She can't keep anything down. I'd be sick for her, if I could. I really would," John said passionately.

"No ya wouldn't," the man said with a snicker. "Nothing worse than honking."

"Well...maybe you're right about the sick part, but I do feel helpless. She's home with her mother right now. She's visiting. I'm glad she's here...I couldn't stay home today. Had to mind the shop this morning."

"You get on with her? The mother-in-law?"

"That...that remains to be seen. Only just met her," John admitted. "I know one thing. She's opinionated. And more than a bit scary. When we first met, I thought she was getting ready to slap me."

"What woman worth her salt _ain't_ opinionated?" the man joked.

"The best ones speak their mind, don't they?" John agreed. "She never said anything unreasonable, though, just painfully honest." John wrinkled his nose. "Blimey, I probably would have said everything she said to me if the shoes were reversed, but it wouldn't make sense me being a man, and her being a woman, 'cos a woman can't impregnate a man...that didn't come out right."

The man laughed heartily. "You're an interesting bloke."

John ignored him. "Funny thing, though, we parted on good terms. I think maybe...maybe at some point we'll get on really well. I know one thing. She's a helluva woman to have raised that daughter of hers. Rose is...brilliant. I respect her, totally and completely."

"So you ready to be a dad you reckon?"

"No..." John replied with a terrified look in his eyes, "and yes," he added with a bit of a smile. "I don't know the first thing about it, to be honest. My Dad wasn't around much growing up, and then died when I was in my early twenties. My granddad, now, there is a good man. He'll be the one I go to for advice. World War II vet, owned his own newsstand for fifty years, never complained once about it. He's the one who gave me my first telescope, got me interested in the stars." John looked around the room.

"Did you take all of these photographs hanging on the walls?"

"Yep. Well most of them. Anything that isn't mine was taken by Granddad."

The man was quiet for a moment, mulling if he should ask this next question. "What about your future father-in-law? Do you feel comfortable going to him for advice?"

"I have never met him him, and have only spoken with him once on the telephone. He seems a very decent man, though. He didn't bite my head off, at least. That's a start," John said with a chuckle. "He's actually my fiancee's step-dad, but she loves him like her own father. Absolutely has nothing but good to say about the man."

The man pinched his lips and nodded. "Sounds like you have good support system, because you're going to need it. When the baby is screaming, and your wife is crying because her hormones are all outta whack two weeks after giving birth, and she thinks she's fat and ugly, and you have told her she ain't until you're blue in the face, and she starts crying even harder, you're going to need someone _you_ can talk to."

"Can't say I'm looking forward to that," John said, pulling a face.

"Hey mate, why'd you ask me before if I was here to see the caged ape?"

John sighed and ran his hand down his face. "This morning, _The Sun, _yeah, the tabloid, this morning it published this articleabout my fianceé. She's famous, you see..." John said with a clearly proud smile. "Damn paparazzi won't leave her alone, and now? They're practically terrorizing her. And just in case you _do_ decide to go out and pick up copy after you leave the shop, because you are curious," John pointed at the man to emphasize his next point, "Rose Tyler and I didn't even meet until last month. She had _nothing, absolutely nothing,_ to do with the breakup of my marriage. That was doomed long before I ever put on my tux and walked into that church. Plus, didn't anyone even think to look at the public records? My divorce was finalized over a year ago, and Rose didn't even move back to London until three months ago!" John railed, as he paced behind the sales counter. He calmed down, sat on the stool and shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. I just really hate what they are saying about her. They can talk about me all they want, but not her."

"So I'm in the presence of tabloid royalty, eh?"

"Hardly. I'm the lowly owner of the shop that the famous girl ran in to hide from the cameras...and..." John cleared his throat and looked out the window. "And I'm the man who fell in love with that famous girl...after he got her pregnant..." he added quietly. "We're getting married in two weeks."

"That's good, right?" the man offered cautiously.

"Yeah..." A small grin grew into a stunningly bright smile. "It's great!"

The toddler started to cry, and the man bounced the little fellow a bit. The boy squirmed, and reached for a figurine on the sales counter. "Sorry," the customer said, pulling the squatty toy robot out of the boy's mouth. A string of drool connected the boy to the toy.

"Aww, don't worry about it. Of course he wants the robot. The robot is brilliant. He can keep it." John leaned on the counter and smiled at the little fellow, not really wanting the item back now that it was covered with baby goo.

The boy grinned back at him, his two bottom teeth protruding from his pink gums.

"What's your name little man?" John asked, ruffling the boy's strawberry blonde hair.

"His name is Anthony."

"That's a good, solid name," John said. "Names are very important, you know."

"I'm Alan, by the way. It's been very nice speaking with you, and good luck with the future mum-in-law. She sounds like she could be quite the tiger." The man winked at him and then went off to peruse the shop.

He bought a scholarly work about plate tectonics and a glossy collection of photos from the Hubble and a board book about the moon and stars for the little boy from the small children's section near the front of the shop.

"Hope to see you around again sometime, mate," the strawberry blonde man said as a farewell.

"Come back again, Alan, and bring the little man with you."

"Ba-ba!" The little boy waved his chubby fist.

oOo

Rose felt stronger in the afternoon. "Mum, why don't you go out, do some shoppin' or something? You haven't been back in London for ages. I can take care of myself now, I'm fine. I want to walk to the shop and spend the rest of the afternoon with John."

"Well, there have been some things I've wanted to pick up for Tony and Pete." Jackie paused. "Who knows, I may see what I can see for your little one, too," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Rose blushed, and looked down. "Really?"

Jackie put her hands on her hips. "And why wouldn't I buy a little something for my own grandbaby?"

"I dunno, 'cos I thought maybe, well, you were so mad with me that you might...not want anything...to do...with...me or...the...baby..." Rose's voice trailed off.

"Rose Marion Tyler, that is bollocks! You know me better than that! You know I would _never_ hold a grudge against either you _or_ your little one. Ever. You're my daughter! You made a mistake, who doesn't? And every baby is a miracle. And this one is yours...my own baby's baby!"

"Aww Mum..." Rose hugged Jackie and sniffed a little into her mother's velour designer track jacket. "I'm sorry...I don't think you'd be that awful..."

"It's just the hormones, sweetheart, don't give it a second thought."

Rose sat back down on the sofa, one leg tucked up underneath. She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. Jackie sat down next to her.

"John and I haven't been...intimate since that night..."

If she was surprised, Jackie didn't let on. She simply listened to her daughter's unexpected admission.

"We said we weren't going to make the same mistake twice. We didn't know each other at all the first time. We were attracted, still are to be honest," she glanced back up at her mother, then looked back down at the pillow. "But we both want to do things right this time. We want to get to know each other properly, and...be in love..."

A knowing smile grew on Jackie's face.

"What?" Rose asked, perplexed, seeing her mother's grin.

"I think I _will_ head out, sweetheart. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

Rose shook her head. "Mum, you're gonna leave just like that? When I'm pouring out my heart to ya'?"

Jackie stood up and looked down at her daughter. "I don't think I'm the one you should be telling this to, and...I'm not so sure you aren't already there."

Rose nodded silently, stunned by her mother's speech. She stood up and hugged Jackie. "Thanks for spending the morning with me, seeing me through the worst of it."

"Of course! That's what mums do. You'll do the same for yours when the time comes."

oOo

"So Pete, what did you learn?" Jackie asked before she took a sip from her pretty pink Cosmo, which was heavy of the pink, and very light on the vodka, given it was only four thirty in the afternoon.

"He thought you were going to slug him," Pete said with a chuckle. The ice cubes in his rum and Coke clinked against the glass as he swirled it.

"Now that's what I like to hear," Jackie said proudly, toasting him with her glass.

"He respects you, Jacks. Told me outright."

"Rose is in love with him, I just know it. I can tell. She all but said it," said Jackie with a smile. "We shouldn't be too hard on them, for the speed of their romance, considerin' we got married after datin' each other for a month."

"I'm surprised Rose hasn't thrown that obvious little fact up in our faces yet," Pete said with a chuckle. "He told me he's in love with her. When I asked him when we spoke on the telephone, he said he was certain that he _would_ fall in love with her. I wonder what changed in a couple of days?" Pete mused.

"She told me today that they ain't even slept together since that first night."

Pete held up his hand. "Don't need to know anymore, Jacks." He sipped his mostly-Coke drink. Tony giggled at Jackie's feet as he chewed on the new board book from John's shop.

oOo

John mixed vinegar and oil, spices and herbs in a jar, and shook it. He set the jar down and leaned his back against the counter, arms crossed. "Do you want the baby to be a boy or a girl?" he asked, looking out into infinity.

"I've heard boys are easier than girls in the long run. Girls create _drama_," Rose said with a smirk.

"Don't I know it. Donna could be a real a pill growing up. The rows she had with mother? I thought they'd kill each other someday."

"I would love a little boy, I think," Rose replied. "What about you?"

"A girl." He didn't even have to think to answer.

"Maybe we'll have twins? Are twins hereditary?"

"Fraternal twins are."

"Hmm..." Rose said with a small smile, as she placed her hand on her belly. "Wouldn't that be interesting?"

"Hereditary on the mother's side. Two eggs have to be released and fertilized. Do you have them in your family?"

"Don't think so. I'll ask Mum. Twins. Wow. Now that would be interesting..."

"Interesting, Rose Tyler? Try exhausting!" John countered.

"_All_ babies are exhausting."

The doorbell rang. "Someone's here," John said.

"Ready for this?" Rose asked John as she set the last fork on the table and straightened a knife.

"Nope," said John, with a nervous swallow. "But lack of readiness never stopped me before," he added with a manic grin.

John reached out his hand for Rose's and together they went to answer the door. Rose looked up at John and put her hand on the doorknob. She turned it, pulled it open and gasped as she not only saw her mother standing outside, but her stepfather holding baby brother.

"'Hello Rosie! Surprise!"

"Wose!"

* * *

Well, I've all but abandoned the original films. Does anyone care? My muse has a mind of her own.


	11. Chapter 11

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 11**

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a strong PG-13 for non-explicit, sexual situation and pregnancy complication. **Warnings:** Rose's pregnancy will be entering a new phase at the end of this chapter. There will be pregnancy complications. Have no fear, there will be a happy outcome, but I feel it is only fair that I warn you of this possibly triggering subject.

* * *

_John reached out his hand for Rose's and together they went to answer the door. Rose looked up at John and put her hand on the doorknob. She turned it, pulled it open and gasped as she not only saw her mother standing outside, but her stepfather holding baby brother._

_"'Hello Rosie! Surprise!"_

_"Wose!"_

"What?" John muttered. He squinted at the strawberry blonde man who was working to keep the squirmy little boy in his arms. "What?" He repeated himself. The simple word was more an exclamation than a question, as he switched his attention from Tony Tyler to Rose's stepfather and back again.

"'Tars!" Tony said, capturing John's attention. "Mooooo'!" The small boy clapped his chubby hands, sounding very much like he was imitating a cow.

The boy lurched forward, and John caught the tyke with an 'oof' as he almost fell out of his father's arms, reaching for a shiny bauble that had caught his attention. Behind John's shoulder was a celestially inspired door knocker on the glossy eight-panel blue door. Two silver-toned stars served as the base, and the knocker itself was a whimsical depiction of a smiling man in the moon.

"His nursery is decorated with a man in the moon theme. It's a nice theme. Maybe you could decorate your baby's nursery. I could help...you..." Jackie rambled nervously.

John turned his back on Jackie and Pete, and faced the door to show little Tony the artful door knocker. "That's right, those are stars...and there...there is the man in the moon."

Tony fingered the unusual ornament and giggled happily as John was brought back to earth. "Why'd you do it?" John asked Pete, still facing the door.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," said Pete, sheepishly.

"What are you talking about?" Rose asked, with a nervous laugh.

John turned back around, thrust the boy at Jackie with a little more force than necessary. He then crossed his arms and stared at Pete, lips pursed in a thin line.

"Rose, meet the man with the little boy who came into the shop today. Remember I told you about them? The man about my age with the baby?"

"Pete? You went to the book shop to spy on John and secretly chat him up?" Rose exclaimed. She put her hands on her hips and turned her head towards the darkening sky, slack-jawed.

"We wanted to know more about this mystery man of yours, sweetheart, that's all," Jackie explained.

"Well, ya coulda just introduced yourself and talked to him like a normal person." Rose's voice reached upper octaves in which John had never heard her speak.

"Rose, calm down," John said quietly into Rose's ear.

"Calm down?" Rose screeched loudly. "Calm down?" ...even louder still.

"Rose, let me explain..." Pete pled.

"Wose!" Tony squirmed within his mother's arms, reached out for his sister, and Rose gathered him close.

"Hi Tony, I missed you," she said, ignoring Pete, pressing a soft kiss into her brother's chubby cheek. Tony wrapped his arms around her neck, and dropping his tired blonde head on her shoulder.

"Awww, look at that. Tony misses his big sissy. Isn't that sweet," Jackie cooed, treacly sweet.

Rose rolled her eyes and ignored her mother's attempts to distract her and turned her attention back to her stepfather. "Pete, why'd you lie to John? Why couldn't you..." Rose sighed before she continued. "Why couldn't you just introduce yourself? You'd already spoken on the telephone. John told me you two got on real well."

"I didn't want John to be nervous around me, that's why. I wanted to let him...ease into things. It's one thing to talk on the telephone, and another thing entirely to meet your future father-in-law face to face. Especially under these circumstances."

"Oh, of course! _These _circumstances. Put this all back on me," Rose said, angrily.

"Rose, that is _not_ what I meant," Pete said calmly, gently touching her shoulder and looking her in the eye. He sighed. "Honestly, I didn't think it would get as far as it did. I'd planned on tellin' John who I was, but...he obviously needed someone anonymous to talk to, and well, I was there, and then it was time to go...and I chickened out."

Jackie clucked and pantomimed flapping wings. Rose glared at her mother, and Jackie glared right back. John's arms were still crossed, but the hardened look on his face had changed to one of contemplation.

Rose turned back to John. "My stepdad _lied_ to you. Doesn't that bother you at all?" Rose shook her head, confused why John wasn't angry.

John tugged on his ear and pondered her question for a moment. "No, not really, come to think of it." He paused. "I think I may understand his strategy. May have to use that someday myself. Maybe when our little one starts dating."

He turned to Pete, and offered his hand to shake his future father-in-law's. "Nicely done, Pete Tyler! Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Dr. John Smith, and I'm engaged to your daughter!"

"Peter Alan Tyler. Good to meet you John. You can call me Pete." He slapped John on the back with felicity and together John and Pete went into the house, leaving a very confused Rose, a cackling Jackie, and a drowsy little Tony in their wake.

oOo

Living alone for over a year had quickly forced John to learn how to cook. Renee, for all her faults, had been a fantastic cook, and he had become used to her gourmet meals. He decided he had better teach himself how to prepare food well, or he would be relying upon frozen meals and take away.

For tonight's dinner, John didn't want to prepare anything that looked like he was desperate to impress the Tylers. Neither did he want to appear that he had just thrown a bunch of edible ingredients together in some random fashion. He knew he was making things far too complicated, but tonight was important, and he didn't want it go badly. Even so, without trying, he had most definitely impressed his future in-laws.

"Where did you learn to make cook like this?" Jackie asked as she refilled her plate with vegetables he had prepared outside on the gas grill.

Pete reached for a second piece of lemon-herb grilled chicken.

"Took a few classes a some months back. Cooking has sort of become a hobby of mine."

"Well good for you," Pete praised.

"Just be glad he didn't make one of those Thai dinners of his. That five star Massaman curry of his? Call 999 'cos you'll need a firefighter to come and douse the inferno in your mouth," Donna said with a snorting laugh.

"Make it for this one anytime you want, and you'll have a friend for life," Jackie said, pointing her thumb at Pete. "There's this teeny little Thai place close to our home. Pete's picture is up on the wall 'cos he's won their chili pepper eating contest four years running. Last time he won, I refused to kiss him for a week."

"I get a free dinner every week for a year!" Pete said proudly. "And I didn't see you complaining when you were craving their lemongrass soup during your second trimester with Tony."

"You like it hot, 'eh?" John asked.

"Why do you think I married her?" Pete replied, with a wolfish grin and an eyebrow waggle.

"Oh, you!" Jackie playfully hit him on the arm, and then dropped a wet kiss onto his cheek.

Rose smiled fondly at her parents. Just forty-eight hours before, she was terrified of the prospect of her mother and stepfather even knowing about her pregnancy. Now they seemed to be embracing John as one of the family.

"You've been awfully quiet, Rose, and you haven't eaten a bite of your supper. You feeling alright?" asked Donna, concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Rose paused, pushing the food around her plate with her fork. "I'm relieved, I suppose."

Jackie turned to her daughter with concern. "About what, sweetheart?"

"To be honest, I was really nervous about tonight...and I'm happy that things are turning out the way I think they are." Rose teared up. "Stupid hormones. Now I'm cryin'." She wiped the tears away with her fingertips.

"Aww, Rosie, do you honestly think we wouldn't come 'round? Wouldn't be happy for you? You're carrying our grandbaby!" Pete exclaimed.

"No. I didn't. I really thought you'd be so angry and...hurt...and...and disappointed and...and...oh bugger it!" Rose fled from the table.

John stood up to chase her, but Jackie stilled him. "Let her be, John. Trust me. She doesn't cry very often. Holds it in, she does. She needs to let it out."

He looked longingly down the hallway, but slowly sank back into his seat, begrudgingly taking Jackie's advice.

"John, you need to tell her what you told me in the shop this morning. Don't you think she deserves to know? I told Jacks, hope you don't mind."

John's eyebrows shot up, knowing exactly to what Pete Tyler was referring: his admission that he had fallen in love with the girl who had hidden in his shop.

"Tell her what? What did you tell him?" Donna asked in, curious.

John ignored his sister. "I will, Pete, I promise I'll tell her when the time is right."

"Tell...her...what? Don't you think I deserve to know? Your own sister?" Donna pressed.

"Donna," John said in warning, though not in anger.

Donna knew he wouldn't crack, and harrumphed that she was beaten. Five minutes later, Rose returned, her face and demeanor restored. As she sat down, John stood up and pulled her chair for her. She bit her lip slightly embarrassed by the gesture, but looked up over her shoulder at him, and touched his hand.

Donna watched the exchange carefully, raised her eyebrows at John. John half smiled, and Donna winked at him. John blushed, but then smiled right back at her. She gave him a thumbs up in return.

"What's that all about?" Rose asked, watching the volley of silent communication between John and Donna.

"Oh...nothing," Donna said, blithely, smiling brightly at John.

Dinner progressed on a much lighter note, and John's childhood became the focus of the conversation. It became obvious that Donna believed the more embarrassing the story, the better.

"...so he comes running out of the science lab like he's bein' chased by an alien or somethin' and he's screaming, '_Run! Everybody out! She's gonna blow!'_" Donna could hardly get the words out, she was laughing so hard.

Rose's cheeks hurt from laughing. Jackie and Pete were leaning on each other, hysterical. Shaun had heard the story so many times that he was immune to the humor, but he was smiling at the sight of his future sister-in-law laughing hysterically.

John, on the other hand, was red-faced, rubbing his neck nervously, as his sister finished the tale of his sixteenth year.

"And he didn't get kicked outta school?" asked Rose between hiccoughs.

"You kidding? I won first place in the science fair for that experiment," John spoke up, defending himself.

Donna began yet another embarrassing recollection. "And then there was the time that-"

"Alrighty then! Don't you think they're tired of hearing about my misspent youth?" John interrupted loudly.

"My turn! I want to ask some questions. You promised John, now didn't ya?" Jackie turned to Donna. "Why does John have a different last name than you? Your maiden name is Noble, right?"

"That's a story he needs to tell," Donna answered seriously.

John told of his rebellion, and there were more than a few laughs about his experimentation with hairstyles and odd clothing. Jackie and Pete could sense the undercurrent of seriousness that ran through the recollection.

"Unfortunately, my mother and I have never really, truly reconciled. I don't know that we ever will." John bunched up his cloth serviette and placed it next to his plate. He leaned back in his chair, mouth pursed for a moment. He then drew in a long breath through his nose before speaking again. "Mother and I don't see eye-to-eye on most things."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jackie said with sympathy and fondness. "It's hard when you don't get along with your Mum or Dad."

The group around the table was silent for a moment.

Donna stood up, and pushed away from the table, and broken the silence. "How about dessert. Rose wanna help me?"

"Yeah, 'course." Rose followed Donna, leaving Pete, Jackie, Shaun and John alone in the dining room.

"She knows about the baby, right? Pete said that when Rose called to tell me, she was calling from your mum's house."

"She knows and...she is furious. She thinks that Rose seduced me," he said with a chuckle. "That she intentionally set out to become pregnant to trap me into a marriage, which is ridiculous, considering I didn't even know her a month ago, and she is the one with the money, fame and social standing," he said with a half smile.

"Ahhh, so you admit _you_ seduced our daughter for her money. I see how it is," Jackie said with a gleam in her eye, that John immediately recognized to be a sign of the woman's wicked sense of humor.

"Naw...I'm too rude. If I'd wanted her money, I would've just asked her for it," John answered with an equally wicked twinkle in his eye.

"Oh you!" Jackie picked up her serviette and whipped his arm with it playfully. John feigned injury and groaned, then laughed.

Pete watched on his wife came around, realizing what he had suspected the first time he had spoken on the phone with John; that the man Rose was marrying was a good man, indeed. Pete was thrilled that Jackie had given John a chance to prove himself.

Donna and Rose returned from the kitchen with dessert, plates, utensils and tea things. Jackie _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over the dark chocolate mousse torte. Rose declined a slice, and John asked for a double portion.

"So when do we get to meet your mother, John?" asked Pete.

Donna barked a laugh. "You actually want to meet her? Do you have a death wish? Or are the two of you masochists?"

"Believe me, I can handle your mum," Jackie boasted, sitting up straighter and thrusting out her sizable chest.

"Donna," Rose half smiled. "I think your mum might be the one at the disadvantage this time," Rose said with a snorting laugh. "Mum can be downright terrifying."

Shaun broke his silent observation. "Maybe they could meet someplace public? It'd reduce the chances of a scene."

Donna pursed her lips dramatically and turned to look at her husband. "Four words: Sunday Brunch at Dominick's."

"Oh. Right." He cleared his throat and looked at Pete and Jackie. "Banned for life from the best restaurant in Chiswick."

"Well they're going to have to meet before the wedding, yeah?" Rose asked, timidly.

"Maybe." John crossed his arms. "If she even comes."

"No, not _maybe_, I am _going_ to meet the future mother-in-law of my only girl, John Smith," Jackie said firmly.

"I think Rose here is right." Donna smiled and winked at Jackie. "Maybe Sylvia is the one who should be worried. Oh, I like you, Jackie Tyler. We're going to get along just fine. So, when are you and I going to take Rose out to get her wedding dress?" Donna stood up and moved to the other side of the table. "Shove off, John. Jackie and I have important things to discuss."

John scowled at his sister, and vacated his spot.

"Gentlemen, I do believe that is our queue." Pete picked up his dessert plate and teacup, and brought it out into the kitchen. Shaun and John followed suit, leaving Donna and Jackie talking over the top of each other. Rose leaned on her hand, listening quietly.

"Rose." Jackie waved her hand in Rose's line of sight. "Earth to Rose."

"Not feeling so well, to be honest. Starting to feel nauseous again. The thought of chicken sorta set me off."

"Sweetheart, I'm worried. You can't go on like this much longer. You don't look well. In fact, I want you to call your doctor first thing tomorrow."

Rose rolled her eyes, but not at her mother's advice. "Alright, alright, I'll call her," Rose agreed.

"I'll take care of the shop for John, so he can go with you."

"Thanks Donna," Rose said with wan smile. "Oh no, not again." Rose jumped up from the table, her hand covering her mouth.

"Oh that poor girl..." Donna said shooting a look over her shoulder as Rose fled to the toilet.

"I really am worried about her, Donna. She is obviously not well. This isn't normal. I follow all of those ridiculous tabloids, and even though we ain't talked much in the past few months, I've been seein' how she's been goin' downhill. She's lost so much weight. She's always been trim, but she has never looked gaunt before."

"That bloody Harold Saxon. If I could get my hands on him, I'd pop that smirking face right off of that scrawny neck," Donna growled. "He's the one behind this, I'm sure of it. She says she's fine, but I'm sure she's nervous what the bastard is going to do next."

"I think I may have to give him a piece of my mind..." Jackie threatened.

"Hold off on that. Shaun is working on gathering enough evidence to bring proper charges against him. John's mate, Jack, is doing some investigatin' too. He has...resources that we don't."

"That sounds promising," Jackie said quietly. "I'm going to check on my daughter."

Jackie got up and sought out Rose, but John had arrived before her. Jackie watched quietly as he stroked her hair, whispered into her ear, never left her side even as she violently wretched into the toilet. When it was done, he helped her to her feet. Jackie tiptoed away before he could see her observing him.

"Pete, I'm going to clean up the dishes, why don't you see to Tony and then I think it's time for us to go. Rose needs to be in bed. She's sick again."

"Dishes are done. Shaun, John and I did 'em while you girls were talkin' on and on about dresses and hats and shoes."

Jackie put her finger under his chin and kissed him soundly. "You're a good man, Pete Tyler. Let's get our boy home and then I'll thank you properly," she whispered into his ear.

Rose stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Her face was pale, and her hands were trembling a bit. John had his arm around her, supporting her. "I think I need to be off to bed, Mum. I'm sorry. You stay and chat, though. Plenty of tea 'n cake left, and-"

"No need to talk, sweetheart. John, you take care of my girl. Tuck her in proper and kiss her goodnight for me," she said with a wink.

John blushed, and then pulled Rose closer into his side. "You can count on me, Jackie," he said with newfound confidence before guiding Rose towards the bedroom.

"We need to get Tony back to the hotel and into his cot. We're going to head out. It was great meeting you Donna and Shaun. I'm so glad that my Rose has you here for her." Jackie lunged at Donna and hugged her warmly. "I mean it. You're good people," Jackie reiterated.

Donna graciously accepted the hug. "Thanks for accepting John. I've never seen him happier, Jackie," Donna said quietly. "They're good together."

"I know a couple in love when I see it, and I'm probably daft to say this out loud, but I don't think it's all that bad a thing that they are getting married right away," Jackie admitted.

"You gonna tell her about our courtship, or can I?" Pete interjected.

Jackie knew exactly what he was referring to. "You go ahead."

"Jacks and I got married within a month of meeting each other."

Donna's mouth gaped for a moment. "Well...I guess when you know, you know."

"Tony, say g'night to Auntie Donna," Jackie prompted.

"Nigh' nigh'." The little boy in Pete's arms blew Donna a kiss.

Donna caught it and placed it on her cheek, and then kissed the little boy in the hair with an "awww."

Donna and Shaun let themselves out soon after Jackie and Pete, quickly saying goodnight to John.

oOo

Rose had only rested on top of the covers for five minutes before another wave of nausea washed over her. She made her way into the toilet, was sick, and then curled up in a ball, pressing her check into the cold black and white tile. "John..." she managed to call out weakly, and within seconds she heard him skipping the stairs, running up from the lounge. He paused in the doorway, bracing himself on the doorjambs as he took in her weak, prostrate form on the floor.

"Oh love, I'm so, so sorry," he said as quietly as a feather alighting on a windless day.

Rose turned her head to look at him and blinked. "What'd you say?" She pulled herself into a half-seated position, holding onto the bathtub.

John dropped down to his knees and cupped her face. "I said...love. I called you _love_..." he said, nervously before swallowing hard.

Rose pulled her knees to her chest and held herself in a tight, protective ball.

John looked up and away from Rose, worried that he had admitted the truth in his heart too soon.

"I love you!" Rose blurted out with more force than she had intended, or thought she could muster in her weakened state.

"Rose..." John breathed her name as he barely touched her hair with a single fingertip.

She lifted her face and searched his eyes for a hint of anything that would tell her how her admission had been received.

John nodded his head almost imperceptibly. "I love you, too."

Rose unfurled herself from her cocoon and flung her arounds around his neck. "I'm not gonna kiss you because my mouth is manky, but I want to...really bad..." She buried her face in his neck and breathed deeply.

"Your hugs are almost as brilliant as your kisses...almost..." John rubbed her back as they melted together, relaxing and reveling in the warmth of their words.

Rose laughed softly and then pulled away, covering her flushed face. "I just told you I love you! Sitting on the floor in the loo!" She peeked her fingers. "After I honked!"

John's shoulders bobbed up and down as he laughing silently, until happy tears were running down his face. "Oh Rose, where would I be without you? I'd be a lonely man, making dinner for one, watching the telly and begging dinner off of my sister and brother-in-law once a week..."

"You've got me now. You've got us." Rose looked down at her belly.

John reached out and touched her stomach. "Yeah, I do, don't I?" He placed the palm of his hand flat on her belly and held it there for a moment. "You think you can make it back to bed?"

Rose nodded. "I'm pretty sure I'm done bein' sick for now."

John stood up and helped Rose to her feet. She rinsed her mouth, washed her face and cleaned her teeth. She grabbed the pyjamas that were hanging on a hook behind the bathroom door, and brought them back with her into the bedroom.

John started to leave so she could dress.

"No, wait, John. Um...could you stay? I'm feeling a bit dizzy and I'd feel better if you were at least in the room. Could you...turn around maybe? While I change?"

"Sure." John smiled and turned to face the door.

After a moment of hesitation and a few deep breaths, Rose unbuttoned her blue and white floral blouse and slipped it off of her shoulders, draping it over the side chair next to the cupboard.

She didn't know why she was so nervous. She'd been dressing and undressing in front of strangers for almost ten years now. But doing this in front of John, sober, was the single most nerve-wracking thing she had done. She stepped out of her trendy circle skirt and then unclasped her bra before slipping her pyjamas on. She climbed under the covers and pulled them up around her chin.

"I'm done," she said quietly.

John turned around slowly and looked at the woman who would be his wife, in his bed, covered up blankets. She looked so vulnerable. "Good night, Rose."

"Where...where are you going?" she asked nervously. "I thought the sleeping arrangements thing had been settled."

John scratched his cheek and grimaced a bit. "Uh...Rose, you don't understand. I...I don't know if I could be in that bed with you without wanting to..._be_ with you. Properly. Not a drunken tumble, not purely out of lust...but properly, completely in love with you. Not being able to touch you? It was hard before. Now it will be impossible."

Rose nodded. "Then don't. Don't not touch me, I mean. Come to bed? Be with me? For real? From now on?"

John's heart skipped a beat. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. I mean it. Didn't think it'd happen so fast. You and me actually falling really truly in love. But we did, didn't we?"

The bed dipped as John sat down next to her. "Gimme your feet."

"What?" she asked, questioning his lightning fast change of emotional direction.

A small smile grew on his face. "I said, give me your feet. I'm following orders."

"Whattya gonna do?" she asked, pulling the covers away and slowly offering him her feet.

"I'm going to rub your feet," he replied, remembering Pete's admonition in his shop earlier that day. "I was downstairs doing some research on the Internet before you called for me, and found out that there is a pressure point between the second and third toes, right between the tendons. Putting pressure right..._here_ is supposed to alleviate your nausea."

"Aaaaach!" Rose groaned in surprise and a bit of pain.

John immediately stopped applying pressure. "Sorry, did that hurt?" he asked, worried.

"Yeah a bit. Ya think that maybe the point of acupressure is to take your mind off of the problem 'cos you're so distracted by the pain of the pressing?" she laughed quietly.

"Could be..." he said lightly, ceasing the therapy, and simply rubbing her feet.

Rose rolled onto her back and propped her head on the pillows so she could see John in the dim light of the bedroom. "Thanks for tonight."

"Your mother is brilliant, Rose. Really, I mean it."

"She is, isn't she? She can be overbearing, though. And don't think you're in the clear. You do somethin' she doesn't like, and I promise, you'll hear about it."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he said, moving his hands up her calves, pushing the pyjama bottoms up to expose more skin.

"That's lovely," Rose said with a sigh, closing her eyes, and relaxing her hands at her sides, the nausea fully gone now. "I can't believe you caught your school science lab on fire." She smiled widely, eyes still closed. "You must've been quite the teacher's pet to not get kicked out after that."

"Hardly," he said with a smirk, and then changed the subject. "I'm staying with you tomorrow. Donna's going to take care of the shop so I can take you to the doctor." The firm, kneading strokes had changed into long, languid, caresses. He moved his body closer to hers, and hazarded an experimental touch slightly above her knee, over the fabric of her night clothes.

Rose opened her eyes, and locked them onto John's. Never averting his gaze, he trailed his fingertips halfway up her thigh, to the place where he knew the skin under the flannel of her nightclothes would be softer, more sensitive. He closed his eyes and imagined how her skin would feel under his fingertips.

Rose nudged his free arm, pulling him down alongside her, so that they were now laying face to face. She touched the fingertips of his roaming hand, stilling it for a moment, and then guided it higher still, giving him nonverbal permission to increase the intimacy of his touches, and then released it, allowing him resume his exploration as he so desired.

Her hands found his face, and Rose traced his sideburn with her fingertip. She placed her lips in the soft spot where his prominent jaw met his ear and sucked gently, knowing it wasn't enough to leave a permanent mark, but still, she soothed the spot with her tongue.

In unison, their breathing sped up as they moved even closer still, their bodies aligned. Heat met heat, and lips slid into place. Rose draped her leg over his slim hips. Now her body had more contact with his form than the bed.

Rose pulled away from their kiss and began to unbutton his shirt. "I want to run with you again, and this time, I am going to remember every minute of it." Her breath had sped up markedly, and her fingers were fumbling, lacking precision as she worked the buttons of his shirt.

"You're feeling strong enough for this?" he asked, concerned. "Tell me truthfully, Rose."

"We don't have to swing from the chandeliers, John," she said with a teasing smile. "But...I...yeah...I really want to be with you."

John cradled her head and pulled her in for a fast, smoldering kiss before taking over the work of unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off, not caring where it ended up. He hadn't worn a vest, as the house had been rather warm from the cooking and the guests.

"Trousers, off..." Rose whispered into his mouth, as they resumed their heated kisses.

He squeezed her upper arms and then pulled away. Deftly, he removed his trousers revealing a pair of tight, dark boxer briefs that left little to Rose's imagination. Hastily, Rose sat up, and pulled her own pyjama top over her head, not bothering with the buttons. They were both now bare from the waist up, but oddly were now hesitant to progress. They sat frozen, eyes glued to eyes, no longer touching.

"John, when did you know you were in love with me?" Rose whispered, her eyes twinkling in the dim light from the corridor.

"When you asked Granddad if you could come stargazing with us on Saturday night. How about you? When was it for you?"

Rose dipped her head. "When you found me in the loo at the restaurant, right after I had thrown my mobile at the wall. I just knew there was no turnin' back."

"No turning back, never," John said with a shake of his head before he kissed her soundly.

Their hesitancy dissipated as together, they reclined back onto the softness of the duvet, holding each other close. John pulled back from Rose, unable to wait any longer, needing to see her, touch and taste her. He reached out to touch the softness of her chest, first with his hands, and then his lips. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly as he mapped her breasts with his mouth.

Rose moved her hands to his arms and squeezed his trim yet strong muscles, leaving the red impressions of her fingers.

"I'm so glad you hid in my shop," he murmured as he kissed down her torso, to her slightly swollen belly. He dropped open-mouthed, wet kisses just below her navel, just above her white panties. He slipped his hand under the waistband, moving to touch her heat as she arched up into his hand.

John's brow furrowed, he pulled back and looked at her white panties. "Rose, you're bleeding."

Rose sat up, looked down and drew in a terrified breath. "I...I didn't notice...I thought I was just...ready to..." she stopped short of telling him how aroused her body had become for him. "Oh God, this is bad. This is really, really bad." She moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Without another word, John sat up, reached for the phone and called for a taxi.

"Change into something comfortable, the taxi will be here in fifteen minutes. It's going to be alright, love. I'll take you to A&E and, everything will be just fine." He swallowed hard as he sat next to Rose.

Rose didn't move, but sat frozen, tightly gripping the duvet. "I...I don't want to lose this baby, John. I want this baby, so, so much," she whispered. "I love you, and I already love our baby too, and I can't lose our baby. I just can't!"

John pulled Rose into his arms and held her until her shivering body calmed, but it took all of his strength to hold back his own fearful tears.

* * *

It's getting real now, folks.


	12. Chapter 12

**My Fair Rose  
Chapter 12**

**DISCLAIMER: ** I am not a physician. I am not a nurse. I am not a medical professional of any sort. I'm working from my own experience with pregnancy complications (though not nearly as serious as this), and from research. I have also consulted a very intelligent and informed pregnant friend, in an effort to make this as realistic and accurate as possible. I apologize if I have have made any technical errors.** _Do not take this as medical advice!_  
**

* * *

_Rose, you're bleeding."_

_Rose sat up, looked down and drew in a terrified breath. "I...I didn't notice...I thought I was just...ready to..." she stopped short of telling him how aroused her body had become for him. "Oh God, this is bad. This is really, really bad." She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. _

_Without another word, John sat up, reached for the phone and called for a taxi. _

"_Change into something comfortable, the taxi will be here in fifteen minutes. It's going to be alright, love. I'll take you to A&E and, everything will be just fine." He swallowed hard as he sat next to Rose._

_Rose didn't move, but sat frozen, tightly gripping the duvet. "I...I don't want to lose this baby, John. I want this baby, so, so much," she whispered. "I love you, and I already love our baby too, and I can't lose our baby. I just can't!"_

_John pulled Rose into his arms and held her until her shivering body calmed, but it took all of his strength to hold back his own fearful tears._

"My back's been hurting...my abdomen's too, but I've been ignoring it. I thought it was just from throwing up so much. I shouldn't have ignored it. This is all my fault," she cried into his shoulder.

"You should have said something, love!" John said, as he rubbed her back.

"Please don't be mad at me! Please! I'm so sorry! I made a mistake!" she pled.

"Rose, love, I'm not mad! This is not your fault, do you understand?"

Rose reluctantly peeled herself out of John's comforting embrace and gingerly stood up. For the first time sober, John saw Rose's bare back.

"Hold on, look your back. Where's that bruise from? What happened?" he asked, alarmed.

Rose craned her neck to look over her shoulder. "I don't know," she said, distracted. "We need to get going. I'll be quick." Her voice quaked, as did her hands as she retrieved a fresh pair of panties, comfortable grey yoga bottoms, a plain white t-shirt and a grey hoodie.

She pulled in a few heaving breaths as she recalled her happiness only one day prior. John had shyly offered her a drawer in his dresser, and she had smiled, taking it as a sign that he never wanted her to go back to her own flat to live.

But what about now? If the baby was lost, would he still want her? The sole reason they had originally decided to marry was because of the pregnancy. John had told her that he didn't want his child to grow up wondering about his or her father.

Rose hastily made her way to the bathroom to clean up and change, hugging her clothing to her bare chest, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. Her sudden need to cover herself didn't go unnoticed as John watched her retreat both physically and emotionally.

She peeled off the red-stained panties and mustered the courage to look. Rose sobbed nervously as she saw the significant amount of blood that was still flowing, but she fought successfully to regain her composure as she dressed. She didn't have any supplies to take care of a monthly, so she used a clean flannel to catch the steady, significant flow of blood.

Rose returned to their bedroom to find that John had dressed in jeans and his most comfortable, and also most ratty, sweatshirt.

"You ready?" John asked quietly.

Rose nodded.

"I'll go down in front of you. If you feel unsteady, just lean on me, alright?" John instructed.

Again, Rose didn't speak, but simply nodded her reply.

John walked in front of his scared fiancée as they descended the stairs to the main level. Every move she made exacerbated her worry, and she was overly cautious as she gripped the handrail. John locked up behind them, and they sat on the exterior stairs to wait for the taxi, which arrived on time, as promised.

"Where to?" asked the taxi driver as they climbed in the taxi.

"Uh...Royal Hope A&E, and make it quick," John said tersely. "I'm sorry. Please... Please, I need you to get her there as quickly as you can."

Rose squeezed John's hand almost painfully as the driver skillfully navigated the streets of London.

"Hope it goes well for you, ma'am," the kind man offered as John paid the fare upon arrival.

John nodded silently, and escorted Rose through the sliding glass doors into the stark whiteness of the emergency care unit.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the glass asked through the speaker in the window.

"Um, I'm twelve weeks pregnant and I'm bleeding. A lot."

The woman pressed a button on her telephone. "I need a wheelchair and a private examination suite, please."

"Someone will be with you right away, dear."

The large double doors which accessed the unit itself opened slowly, and a man in scrubs was waiting with a wheelchair. Rose sat down slowly and placed her feet on the footrests. Momentarily, she felt that odd, dizziness associated with being pushed in a wheelchair when one wasn't used to it.

John trailed along behind mentally calculating everyone he needed to call: Jackie and Pete would be first. Surely Donna and Shaun would want and need to know as well, on a business level as well as being family. Sarah Jane would certainly want to know about Rose, and would be hurt if she found out through the grapevine. Jack, too, considering how fond and protective the man was of Rose. John wanted to tell his granddad of course; Granddad Wilf always had a way of calming John at his most manic. Then there was his mother. She deserved to know, whether she approved of Rose or not.

He looked down at his wristwatch and noted the time: ten fifty-two. He decided to wait on calling until he had concrete news one way or another. He didn't think he would be able to bear to make the calls a second time, should the worst happen. He couldn't bring himself to say the real word in his head: _miscarriage_.

He was jarred from his reverie by a clerk. "Sir, would you be able to fill out some paperwork on behalf of the patient?"

"Yes, of course," he answered. He kissed Rose on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised before following the woman.

As per protocol, an IV was immediately inserted in the back of Rose's hand. She wiggled her toes nervously, and closed her eyes as the technician tapped to raise the vein. Luckily, she was skilled and Rose felt only the slightest discomfort. Rose released the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes, resting into the bed as several phials of blood were drawn.

"Do you think you are able to provide a urine sample?" the technician asked.

"I don't know. I haven't been able to keep any food or drink down in a couple of days. I don't even know if I can pee right now."

The technician nodded, gathered her things and left Rose. It wasn't long before a nurse arrived to take her vital signs and insert a catheter.

John returned around eleven thirty, and dropped into the orange plastic chair next to her bed.

"Hello." It was the first time she had spoken to John since they had left home.

John brushed her hair out of her eyes and held her hand. "Hello."

"What's gonna happen now?" she asked.

"Well, I'm sure they'll do blood work and-"

"No, I mean us. What's going to happen to us?" Rose turned and faced John. "If I lose this baby, you don't have a reason to marry me anymore. The reason will be gone."

"What?" John asked, hurt to the core.

"No more pregnancy, means no more baby, means no need to marry me, right? Problem solved." She averted her watery eyes and looked at the ceiling.

"No, no, no. First of all, Rose Tyler, I love you. I wish so much we had bumped into each other on a street corner some morning. I would have spilled my coffee all over your coat, and would've offered to get it cleaned for you. You would've said it wasn't necessary, and asked me to buy you dinner instead. We would've fallen madly in love within three days, and gotten married two weeks later."

Rose put her hands in her face and cried. "I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just so scared."

"So am I," he admitted.

"I meant what I said at home. I want our baby so much. And John...I would marry you even if...if...I can't bring myself to say the word. But you know, don't you?"

"I know." John cupped her cheek and they leaned on each other.

The curtain rustled, and a short, white-haired man let himself into the examination area. "Good evening, Miss Tyler, I'm Dr. Morgenstern." The doctor picked up her chart and quickly glanced at it.

"I understand you are experiencing heavy bleeding, and are about twelve weeks pregnant."

Rose nodded, and fiddled with the edge of the thin, course blanket. "The bleeding started about an hour and a half ago."

"Any pain?"

"My back and stomach have been sore for a few days. I've been throwing up a lot. I figured it was from all of the retching. Did I throw up too much? Did I cause something to rupture?" Rose asked, panicked.

"No," the physician smiled slightly. "Throwing up is terribly unpleasant, but it does not cause vaginal bleeding. How bad is your nausea?"

"Well, it started about a week ago. Wasn't too bad at first, but it was enough for me to have to quit halfway through a performance. I'm a stage actress, you see and-"

"That's where I recognize you from! I've been racking my brain trying to figure out how I know you! You're Eliza Doolittle. Brilliant performance, Miss Tyler. My wife and I caught the show a month ago."

Rose blushed and looked down. "Thanks."

"Continue..." he prompted.

"So I was lightheaded, tired, and then the puking started. Now I can't hardly keep anything down. I've even lost weight, I think. Trousers that used to be tight are now hanging off of my hips."

"When you say 'really bad' how bad? Once a day? Twice?"

"No, she's doubled over the loo at least four, five times a day, Dr. Morgenstern," John spoke up.

"And you are...?" he asked, glancing over his half-glasses.

"I'm Dr. John Smith, Rose's fiance'."

"Well, I'd say that qualifies as really nauseated, then," he said with a small smile. "Alright." He clapped his hands together. "First thing we are going to do is perform an ultrasound, and then I'll see if I need to do a pelvic examination. I'd rather not if it isn't warranted. Have they drawn blood yet?"

"Yes, when they put in the IV," Rose answered.

He winked. "I'll make sure the labwork is pushed through ASAP. I have some pull being head of obstetrics and all. You're lucky, Miss Tyler, I happened to be here working late, and they called me down from upstairs. Told me a pretty girl needed my help."

Rose smiled, in spite of herself, feeling calmed by the man's quiet humor.

"Dr. Smith, what sort of doctor are you?"

"Astronomy," John smiled and chuckled. "Just like to throw around my title every now and then. Some people are impressed."

Dr. Morgenstern laughed heartily, and slapped him on the back. "Why don't you head out to the waiting area. I'm going to be moving Miss Tyler up to maternity. Give your mobile number to the receptionist, and she'll call you when your girl is settled, alright?"

"I'm staying with her, Dr. Morgenstern," John said firmly.

"Miss Tyler? Is this okay with you?" the physician asked his patient. "I may have to do a full examination. Will you be okay with him staying?."

Rose nodded without hesitation, and turned to John. "Yeah, I want him with me. I don't want to be alone...if...our baby...isn't..."

John smiled wistfully, and touched his fingertip to her pink lips. "I love you. I want to marry you regardless of what happens. You know, that don't you?"

Rose nodded with conviction. "I know. Forever."

oOo

The technician wiped away the cold jelly from her abdomen. John silently stared at the screen, with a goofy grin on his face. Rose was speechless. Dr. Morgenstern was smiling, looking over the top of his half glasses at the gobsmacked couple.

"There are two healthy fetuses, Miss Tyler. See? Here and here. Two placentas, two amniotic sacs. Want to hear the heartbeats?"

Both parents nodded, nearly imperceptibly. Dr. Morgenstern turned up the sound and the rapid swoosh swoosh of fetal heartbeats could be heard.

"I...I...I..." was all Rose could verbalize before John started to laugh hysterically through joyful tears. He pulled Rose into his arms and kissed her passionately until the obstetrician cleared his throat to remind the couple that they were not alone.

"Sorry, that sort of...got away from us..." John said, not sorry at all.

"Miss Tyler, I'm going to admit you into the hospital for a few days to stabilize the bleeding, and to make sure you are rehydrated and to get you nourished. I've already had a call put in to your physician. Dr. Harriet Jones, right?"

Rose nodded.

"She's a good OB. I've requested she come here tomorrow sometime and check you out herself."

Rose nodded dutifully, and looked at the IV line taped to the back of her hand.

"My doctor never said anything about twins. I have a picture from my ultrasound last Friday. John, you carry that picture with you, right?"

John pulled the now rumpled printout from his pocket and handed it to the on-call physician.

"Well, I can _clearly_ see two fetuses, here and here." He pointed to the two lighter-colored images. "Your _hyperemesis gravidarum_ - excessive nausea - is probably a result of the additional HCG and estrogen your body is producing due to the multiple fetuses."

"Why is she bleeding, doctor?" John asked, concerned that this hadn't yet been addressed.

"There is a very, very small placental abruption, right here." Dr. Morgenstern highlighted the area on the ultrasound. "It's separated just a little bit from the uterine wall, hence the bleeding."

"That's serious, right? I read about it in my pregnancy book," Rose asked, concerned.

"Yes, it is. No PA is minor, but yours is very small and offers the very smallest risk. Carefully monitored, you should be able to return to a modified level of activity. No telling how or why it happened, although it is more common with multiples. Now the earliness of the abruption is _highly_ unusual. When it happens this early, it is usually due to an accident or an injury, like a bad fall."

"But I haven't fallen or been doing anything strenuous, well, except for throwing up," Rose joked.

"Rose, what about Saxon? When he shook you?" John asked, sitting up straighter.

"Uh...well, um...I don't know. I was so out of sorts. I don't remember really, just that he shook me hard. The rest is a bit of a blur."

"Someone shook you?" the doctor asked, concerned.

"Yeah, um, my ex-manager. I've filed assault charges."

Dr. Morgenstern pursed his lips and nodded.

"Take off your jacket, love. Show him your arm," John prompted.

Rose complied. Her short-sleeved t-shirt showed the still prevalent hand-shaped bruise on her upper arm from half a week prior. Dr. Morgenstern peered through his glasses at the bruise, and touched it, carefully, examining how it was healing.

"He must have really grabbed you hard to leave this contusion. Miss Tyler. I can't medically rule out that his actions may have contributed to the abruption. Think hard. Do you remember being thrown against the wall? Hitting a piece of furniture?"

"John, the bruise on my back that you saw tonight…" Rose sat forward, and lifted her shirt.

John gently traced the large black and blue mark on her low back. Dr. Morgenstern moved to look at it, and frowned at the severity.

"This is a serious contusion, Rose." It was the first time the physician had called her by her first name.

Rose swallowed hard and began to shake nervously. "I remember now. He shook me, and I stumbled, and fell backwards against the edge of the sink. It's one of those pedestal sinks." She shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't believe I forgot. I was so scared by his other threat, I must've blocked it out."

"I want you to amend the charges, Rose. Include the bruise on your back, and get the abruption added to your list of injuries. I will write up an official assessment for the police file. This ex-manager of yours is in a shi…pardon me. Heap of trouble."

John and Rose looked at each other.

John's breathing speed up, and he gritted his teeth. "If _anything_ happens to either Rose or these babies, I'll-"

The doctor raised his hands. "Stop right there, Dr. Smith. Do not say anything further."

John swore under his breath.

"So now what, doctor? What's next? Will this placenta tear thing heal on its own?" asked Rose.

"Spontaneous healing is very unusual, and impossible with a severe abruption. However, yours is extremely small…about a one centimeter sized patch has separated. You do have your age on your side, and time. Do you smoke or drink? Eat healthily normally?"

"I used to smoke, but I gave it up a couple of years ago. Only did it when I was nervous. I only rarely drink – maybe one glass of wine every couple of days, and haven't had any alcohol since I found out I was pregnant."

"Good. So what to do now…I am going to prescribe full bed rest for the next two weeks, and modified bed rest for the two weeks to follow, with which I am sure your OB will concur."

"Modified bed rest? But I'm supposed to go back on stage next week!" Rose said, worried. "I might lose my role!"

"An abruption is very serious Miss Tyler. Even a minor tear such as yours." He returned to her formal name, indicating the seriousness of his requirement. "It must be treated with the utmost caution. Despite how bad it must have looked to you, you have not lost very much blood. _Yet_. But if the tear increases, and you do lose more blood, it could quickly develop into something life threatening to either you, to the baby, or to both of you. So theater, or health. Your choice."

"Well when you put it that way, there's no contest. Of course I'll go on bed rest," she said, a bit irritated that the doctor had even hinted that she might put _My Fair Lady_ over her own life or the lives of her children.

John looked at her after a break in the conversation. "Babies, Rose! Babies!"

"I know!" she said, in an almost squeak. "Two of 'em!"

The doctor let his guard down for a moment and smiled.

"I want you laying down either in bed, or on a sofa. Watch the telly, read a book, knit baby booties, play a video game. And no sexual intercourse until you get the all clear from your OB."

John tugged at his ear, and Rose looked at the ceiling, suddenly very self-conscious.

The doctor smiled knowingly. "I mean it. No sex, you two. You can engage in other pleasurable activities, but absolutely no penetration," he said with clinical coolness.

Rose felt the urge to cover her face with her hands, but resisted, not wanting to appear immature. John, on the other hand, demonstrated his embarrassment by rubbing his neck as redness flushed his cheeks.

"Now get some rest. I've already started the anti-nausea drug into your IV drip, and you should be feeling drowsy very soon. Mr. Smith, why don't you go home, and let her get some sleep."

"Doctor, we're supposed to be gettin' married two weeks from today. Am I gonna be okay to do that?"

"As long as you don't do the chicken dance at the reception, I don't see any problem," he said with a grin.

John followed along as Rose's bed was moved from an examination suite into a private room on the maternity ward. Everything about the floor shouted baby: the colors were soft, the nurses wore whimsical scrubs covered with rubber ducks, teddy bears or other happy creatures. As Rose's bed was wheeled passed the nursery, John stopped for a moment, and looked through the glass at the teeny little human beings. He did a bit of mental math and realized that their child...no _children_...would be there in that room in just twenty-eight weeks, give or take. He gulped at the thought. Twins.

John didn't go back to Notting Hill that night, instead, choosing to sleep on the recliner provided for fathers that wanted to stay with their wives, significant others, or girlfriends. He pulled the thin blanket high under his chin and let the darkness and quiet sounds of the monitors in the room lull him to sleep. Right before he drifted off, a horrible thought occurred to him: Rose might have been going through this all alone, or worse, at Saxon's mercy. But now she didn't have to be alone. She had him. They had each other.

oOo

Rose awoke around nine o'clock the next morning, and buzzed the nurse for assistance to use the bathroom. At some point during the night, the catheter had been removed, and the massive amounts of fluid that had been pumped into her body overnight had finally caught up.

John stirred when the nurse came in to guide Rose into the toilet, and soon, Rose was back. John rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"Morning sleepyhead," John said with a smile as she made herself comfortable in the bed, raising the back up, so she could sit.

"Do you think you could eat a little something, dear?" the older nurse asked.

"You know what sounds good? Cold fruit. The tinned stuff that's so cold it makes your teeth hurt. And jello. Lime if you've got it. And toast with butter." She turned to John. "I'm actually hungry!"

"I'll see what I can do," the nurse said with a smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hello," Rose said, turning to look at John. She bit her lip and started to laugh.

"What's funny?" John asked, standing up and moving to sit on the hospital bed.

"The first time, we were drunk, we don't really remember it, and I got pregnant. And last night, I ended up in A&E and we can't..." she snickered and then continued, "_try_ again until my doctor says it's okay. I think our sex life is cursed."

"You, Rose Tyler, are hardly cursed. And I am more than happy to wait. Well…not happy. Definitely _not_ happy. To be honest, I'm very impatient and not happy about it at all." He smiled wryly.

"Me either," she agreed with a disappointed smirk. This time she didn't blush, and there was no trace of shyness. "At this rate, we won't even get to have sex on our wedding night."

"Two whole weeks, Rose. You're young and healthy. We will, and it will be wonderful."

Rose said with a tongue-peeking grin. "You're just an old fashioned romantic aren't you?"

"I suppose I am." John touched her nose with his before kissing her through his happy smile.

"I really should call Mum," Rose said with a sigh. "Can I use your mobile?"

"'Course." John handed her his phone. "See that icon on the home screen? That's Jackie's contact."

"The grizzly bear?" Rose laughed.

"Your mother is _very_ scary, Rose," he said, serious. "But look at _your_ picture."

"The Rose nebula."

John smiled making a happy noise in the back of his throat. "Yep. Oh, you need a new phone. I'm going to go out and get you one today. I'll add you to my plan."

"A family plan," Rose said flirtatiously.

"You'll need to have your things moved over to my house, Rose. Do you rent or own? Wait, you aren't going back there are you?"

"Um...well, I...I sorta figured I wasn't moving back to my flat considering you gave me a drawer for my things," she admitted. "I rent. I'm sure I can find someone at the theater who would be more than happy to take over the lease. I wonder how long Mum plans on staying in London. I suppose I'm going to need her help now." Rose took a deep breath and dialed her mother. "Hi Mum. John and I have news...big news."

* * *

See? I told you everything would be alright! Challenges are part of life, and they will make it through them, together.


	13. Chapter 13

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 13**

It had been a long, nearly sleepless night for both Rose and John. Just when Rose had given into the relaxing affects of the anti-nausea medication, she was wheeled out of her room and another ultrasound was performed, which focused on the area of the placental abruption. She was pleased to learn that indeed, the tear was very small, and already showed signs of clotting, the first step to healing. More probing ensued, and then another urine test (this time without the aid of the catheter). It was around nine a.m. that the activity of the night finally ceased, and Rose and John were able to finally give in to rest.

The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and quiet save the soft strains of a gentle Debussy nocturne coming through the small, single speaker on the television. The hospital had one channel dedicated to music all day and night, the programming of which was chosen for its soporific effects.

For Rose, the music was a balm. Her eyelids were heavy, and her mind was floating, circling downward, closer and closer to sleep.

John relaxed, hands folded in his lap in the 'dad' recliner. He quickly drifted into a light sleep, the type where one lets ones mind wander here and there, controlling dreams and fantasies.

He imagined seeing Rose standing by him in a white gown, saying 'I do' and exchanging rings. Naturally, his mind then drifted to a more pleasurable place as he recalled the fleeting view, touch, and taste of Rose, choosing to bare herself just for him, the night before. He fantasized that the interruption had never occurred.

_John slips his hands inside of Rose's underpants and eases them off, and Rose, in turn, removes his. With the last barrier gone, they stretch out together, far enough apart to see the full expanse of their nakedness. But they are unable to stay away from each other, and they quickly come together, bodies aligned from nose to toes, chest to chest, heat to heat... Rose's touches begin as gentle caresses as she traces her fingertips across his chest, fingering the soft patch of hair. His hands are on her back, tracing circles, spiraling down to her waist, then over to her hips, and back around to her buttocks. He splays his hand fully across her soft buttocks and pulls her roughly into him. Gentleness gives way to haste and exploring becomes needy as their hands roam with less thought, become more erratic and grabby. Their kisses are no longer slow and petal soft, touching and pulling away repeatedly. Their tongues are now fully engaged, their mouths are locked, teeth are clashing and breaths are gasping. Rose is moaning, John is groaning, heat is building, and their mutual need to merge is reaching a crescendo. He poises himself and-_

Three quiet raps on the door met John's ears and his mind was jarred from his vivid fantasy. He gulped, very uncomfortable in his skin. "Just a moment," he said haltingly. He breathed in and out, calming himself. The physical evidence of his waking dream subsided, so John stood up and quietly walked to the door, not wanting to wake Rose. He knew it had to be a guest, as hospital staff always came in without politely asking first.

Jackie Tyler was outside of the hospital room with two teddy bears in gift bags looped over one arm, and two enormous yellow rubber duck-shaped mylar balloons in hand. The last remnants of his arousal vanished without a trace.

"Mornin' John," Jackie whispered. "Is it okay if we come in? Is it too early? She alright?"

Somehow she had still managed to push Tony in his pushchair while wielding everything in her hands. Pete stood behind his wife, awkwardly balancing two beautiful flower arrangements and a greasy brown paper bag that smelled of fried potatoes and vinegar.

"She's sleeping, but of course you can come in."

As quietly as possible, Jackie entered the room and set the gifts down on the floor next to Rose's bed. She gently touched her daughter's hand.

Rose opened her eyes and smiled. "Hi Mum," she said, quietly happy.

"Wose! Up! Up!" Tony reached out his chubby arms to his sister.

"Hi Tonironi," Rose greeted, her voice cracking from sleep. Tony squealed and clapped as he flashed a bright smile answering his sister's grin. Gingerly, she rolled onto her side to look at her little brother. Jackie pushed Tony closer to Rose so she could touch his outstretched hand.

"Don't feel like you have to talk. You go back to sleep. John here can fill us in," Pete offered graciously.

"No, it's fine. I wasn't asleep. Just resting." It wasn't completely truthful, but she didn't want her parents to feel badly, and she was genuinely glad to see them. "It's good to see you. John, can you get them chairs?"

"Right." John looked around, and saw two older heavy wooden guest chairs with cracked vinyl cushions. He offered Jackie his own seat, and took one of the others.

Jackie sat down and didn't talk for a moment, but then couldn't contain herself. "Oh Sweetheart, you're havin' twins! I knew there had to be somethin' behind all that sick. That just wasn't normal," Jackie said with fond concern. "But I've been worried sick since you called in the middle of the night, and wouldn't tell us why you were in hospital in the first place. As soon as the hour was decent, we knew we had to come, and then the taxi couldn't get here fast enough, and he didn't have a carseat for Tony, so I had to hold him on my lap which terrified me to no end. What if we were in a crash! He could've been hurt! And why, young lady, didn't you call us first thing last night?" Jackie asked, irritated. "Honestly, you in hospital, and himself didn't even ring us. If this ever happens again, you better ring us up, day or night, it don't matter!" Jackie said, pointing at an amused John. "We've had all these horrible things runnin' through our heads and-"

"Jacks, why don't you just let Rose and John tell us why she's in hospital?" Pete suggested with a chuckle.

"I suppose you're right. Pete, give Tony the chips." She turned from Pete to Rose and John. "We stopped in the cafeteria downstairs and got chips for Tony to eat, ya know, ta keep him quiet. I'm sorry I'm talkin' too much. Maybe I should be the one eating the chips. They make chips in the morning, isn't that nice?"

"Mum! Will you just relax? Everything is okay now. The doctor's been taking really good care of me, everyone's really nice here, but...it _is_ nice have you here now."

"Thanks for coming, Jackie and Pete." John smiled at his future mother-in-law and then yawned widely. "Sorry. Long night."

"Imagine it was! Ya never get any decent sleep when you're in hospital. Always wakin' ya up to find out if you're comfortable, if ya need anything... Ya! I need ta sleep!" she said with an irritated tone.

"Mum, you didn't have to do all of this," Rose protested mildly look at the bounty of presents, though her smile gave away how pleased she was.

"Of course I did, sweethear'! How you feeling? You look a thousand perfect better."

"I ate something this morning, and didn't even feel sick. Um, can I have one of those chips? They smell gorgeous."

"That's my girl," Jackie said as she plucked two greasy wedges from Tony's tray and handed them to Rose.

"Mmm, these taste so good," Rose cooed as she bit into the potato.

"John, why don't you explain what's going on with Rose...what she didn't want to tell us on the phone," interjected Pete.

John sighed, and moved from his seat to the edge of the bed, so he was next to Rose.

"The main reason Rose is in hospital is because she...she started bleeding badly last night."

Jackie gasped and opened her mouth to speak.

"Hold on," John said with a small smile and holding up his hands. "She's fine, the babies are fine. She is going to be on strict bed rest for the next two weeks, and then has to take it easy for a while after that, until the tear has completely healed. She will be away from the production for a minimum of four weeks."

"What he isn't saying is I'm not sure I'm even going to be able to go back. I don't know that they will _want_ me back," she said sadly. "I haven't told Mr. Pegg or Mr. van Statten yet."

"Oh, who cares what they think, sweetheart! You said somethin' about a tear? Is that what's causing the bleeding?" asked Jackie, more concerned about her daughter than any stage role.

"Part of the placenta has separated from her uterine wall. It's a very small section, which is good, because any larger tear at this early stage in pregnancy would certainly have resulted in miscarriage." John paused, allowing the news to sink in. "But there's more. The OB is quite sure that Saxon is responsible. The day that he threatened Rose, he grabbed her and shook her. _Hard_. Rose fell against the sink."

Rose continued the account. "I didn't think anything of it. Didn't even remember it until last night, Mum. I was so scared about his threats, and then I got so sick. I think I pushed the memory right out of my mind."

"Saxon hurt you? You never said anything about that when you rang us up, Rose," Pete said, surprised. "This takes things to a whole new level."

Jackie stood up and smoothed Rose's hair. "No wonder you were so nervous to tell us about the baby...with everything else going on, sweetheart. I'm sorry I yelled at you when you called to tell us about the pregnancy."

"It's done, Mum. Forget it. What matters is what happens from now on."

Tony giggled as he lost interest in the chips, and started to play with a toy attached to his pushchair. Rose looked over at him and laughed. "Promise you won't go overboard buying stuff for the babies, Mum. You went crazy with Tony."

"Not going to promise anything. This Gran is going to spoil those two babies something rotten."

Pete looked at John. "Brace yourself, John. You're about to get to know your UPS delivery person very, very well. I can already see the wheels churning in Jackie's head. Two of everything, too."

"You know what you're gonna love, John? Those baby carriers that strap to the front of ya. My Pete just loved wearing Tony around, didn't ya Pete?"

"Oh. Definitely! Loved it." Jackie's back was to Pete, and the man winked at John, who immediately recognized the sarcasm in Pete's voice.

"You mean like a mother kangaroo? No way. I am not wearing one of those... those... _things_," he protested.

Rose laughed at the look of horror on his face.

"And don't you ever expect me to carry that nappy purse thing, Rose, especially if it's all pink and flowery and...girlie."

"What if it's all blue and manly and boyish? Will you carry it then?" she teased.

He harrumphed. "Maybe. _Maybe_."

"You're in for it, mate. Just you wait." Pete shook his head.

The door to the room flew open. "John! Oh my _darling_ boy! You poor, poor, thing, having to go through this!" Sylvia Noble blew into the room, and all eyes snapped onto her. "I am _so_ sorry to hear what has happened, but it is for the best in the end, isn't it? It was a marriage of necessity after all, and the miscarriage has taken care of that-"

"What the hell are you talking about, and who the bloody hell are you?" asked Jackie, looking at woman, taking an immediate dislike to her.

"I'm Sylvia Noble. Who are these people John?" she asked with a smile on her face, but derision in her voice.

John heaved an angry sigh. "Mother, these are the Tylers, Rose's mother, stepfather and her baby brother Tony."

"Oh," she said in a high, affected voice. "Oh," she repeated herself, even more falsely pleasant. "Well then. I suppose we should meet each other properly. I'm Sylvia Noble, John's mother." The woman stood and extended her hand as if she had said nothing offensive.

Jackie didn't accept it, instead, crossed her arms. "What did you mean miscarriage? Rose hasn't had a miscarriage."

"But John, you said she was in hospital on your recorded message this morning, and I just assumed..." Sylvia said, defensively, straightening her back, holding her handbag close to her body. "I assumed that she'd lost the baby. Why else would you call me and tell me Miss Tyler had been admitted."

"So you're calling me John again, eh?" John said with a smirk.

"Why wouldn't I? I knew you'd come around..."

"Come around to _what_ exactly, _Sylvia_?" John said rudely.

"Excuse me, please," Rose said quietly. "Don't I get to say anything?"

"Just a minute, missy, I'm having a talk with my son."

"_What_ did you just call my daughter?" Jackie growled the question as she stood up, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"This is between me and my son. Sod off." All pleasant pretense was now gone from Sylvia's voice.

"You come blowin' in here, upsetting my daughter whose health is very fragile right now, and you tell _me_ to _sod off_?"

"Mother..." John said, his tone a warning.

Sylvia ignored her son. "So this sweet little tyke is your son? Cute little fellow. I'm glad I never had to go through raising a child at your age. Isn't it a bit..._difficult_?" She examined her perfectly applied nail polish. "But then again, now you have money and stability. It must have been so hard to be a young, single mum, caring for a child all by yourself on a council estate. I bet you're happy you have a husband this time 'round."

Pete stood and spoke with his jaw tight. "Jackie's husband _died_ when Rose was an infant, and Jackie was a fine mother. She raised a beautiful, talented, kind daughter. And yes, she did it all on her own on an estate, without much money." He ground his teeth and balled fists, fighting the urge to call her a foul name. "And I am proud to be the father that Rose didn't have growing up, even though she is an adult and on her own, and I am thrilled that I get to be granddad to her children."

"You entertainment people think you're respectable, but you're all the same. Anything to get you names in _The Sun_. You can take the girl out of the estate but you can't take the estate out of the girl. Your velour tracksuit may be designer, _Jackie_, but it's still _chav_," she added under her breath.

Jackie made a move closer to Sylvia, but Pete pulled her back to his side.

Rose spoke loudly, desperately trying to bring calm to the quickly escalating situation. "Mrs. Noble, I am having complications...turns out I'm carrying twins. That's why I'm in hospital."

"Twins. This just keeps getting better and better," she said facetiously. "What are you going to call them, Victoria and David? That'd be clever, now wouldn't it?"

Rose shook her head, ignoring her. "I love your son, and he loves me, and I'm never gonna leave him. You can accept me or not, but I've made my choice, and I choose John. You are invited to our wedding in two weeks, but you will never, not ever, and I mean _ever_ talk about my mum that way again. No one treats my mum that way. No one. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to rest. You are upsetting me and I'm sure that my doctor won't be pleased about the fact that my blood pressure has just gone through the roof since you walked in."

Rose closed her eyes and sank back into the pillow.

"I can see where I stand," Sylvia said dramatically. "Goodbye John. Good luck. You're going to need it. Going from class to brass, you are...should have stayed with Renee. Now there was a real woman from a respectable family." With those parting shots, Sylvia Noble left the room.

Rose opened her eyes and stirred in the bed. Pete leaned closer to hold her hand. John shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to look out the window, staring silently at the droplets of rainwater running down the windowpane.

Jackie walked up behind him, and put her hand on his shoulder, and then pulled him into a comforting side hug. She looked over at him for a moment. "You alright?" she asked.

"I'm always alright."

"Oh, don't give me that bollocks. I hardly know you and I can see you are feeling all sorts of things, but _alright_ ain't one of 'em," charged Jackie.

John turned to look at her, half smiling. "Sorry, Jackie. Now do you understand why I never changed my name back?"

"Whattya sorry for, sweetheart? You aren't responsible for your mother! Come on, sit down next to Rose. I think she could use a smile from that handsome face of yours."

A nurse arrived in response to the silent alarm triggered by Rose's rise in blood pressure. "You feeling alright?" asked the man.

"Oh, same old, same old," Rose said, with an eye roll. "Family drama..."

"All of you, behave," the man pointed and swept his finger around the room. "I can't have Rose here upset," the man charged.

"Oh, no, it isn't them. The drama queen just left." Rose muttered. "Oh, did I say that out loud?"

John sputtered a laugh, but still kept his back to his new family.

"I'm Rory by the way. And yes, I'm a bloke, and no, I didn't flunk med school and settle for nursing. I like nursing." He paused. "I chose to be a nurse. Nursing is _absolutely_ my _chosen_ profession."

Everyone looked at him blankly.

"Sorry, I...get a lot of funny looks," he said awkwardly. "So, blood pressure is elevated. Not good. Try 'n relax Rose. Dr. Jones should be here any minute. I just saw her doin' rounds...and...well...here she is."

"You can go ahead and leave, nurse Williams. I'll buzz if I need you. Let's see how you are doing, Ms. Tyler." Dr. Harriet Jones picked up Rose's chart and glanced at it in a cursory fashion, and then took a look at her heart rate, which was still elevated.

"She's having twins." John turned around and looked down at the woman. "She's been sick for a week, and she had a placental abruption. Now, that happened after you saw her, so I can't see that being your fault, considering that it was apparently caused by...an accident. But twins? How does one miss twins?"

"Who are you?" She asked John cooly.

"I'm Rose's fiance', Dr. John Smith." John didn't extend his hand in greeting. Instead, he put his glasses on, and stared at the woman as if studying her.

"I wasn't aware that the father was in the picture, Ms. Tyler," Dr. Jones said with a hit of condescension.

"Oh, I'm very much in the picture Dr. Jones." He turned to his future in-laws. "Jackie, Pete, may we have a minute with Rose's physician? Why don't you two go and get a cup of tea." It wasn't a request.

The couple gathered their things, and took Tony, leaving without question.

"What is it you wish to talk to me about, Dr. Smith, Ms. Tyler?" she asked, with irritation in her voice. "I really do need to do Ms. Tyler's examination and I have other patients to attend to as well."

Rose raised her bed slightly so that she didn't have to strain to see Dr. Jones. "Since you won't answer John, I'll ask ya. How did you miss that I was havin' twins?"

"Oh, that's a common mistake so early on in a pregnancy Ms. Tyler. I wouldn't read too much into that," she answered, feigning casual disregard.

John glanced at the physician's hands. They were shaking slightly. "Dr. Morgenstern saw the second baby without any problem," John noted, rocking on his heels, hands plunged deeply into the pockets of his denims.

"I...uh..." she began, but then stopped talking, looking down at Rose's chart nervously, not reading it, but darting her eyes about the page. "I missed it. It happens. But now we know, and Rose will's treatment will be adjusted appropriately."

"You know what I wanna know? I wanna know how my ex-manager Harry Saxon got my medical records, 'cos I thought they were private. Sharing private medical records without my permission is illegal." Rose spoke quietly, but with authority.

"I...I don't know what you're...talking about." Dr. Jones cleared her throat nervously.

"My fiancee' asked you a question, doctor. Now why don't you tell us how Harold Saxon got her medical records. Rose never told him she was pregnant, and yet, he had copies of her most recent ultrasound and progress notes, and had copies of them sent via courier to both my mother here in England, and to Rose's parents in Los Angeles."

Dr. Jones didn't meet either of their eyes, instead, staring into infinity.

"And did you know that Saxon went to Rose's apartment on Monday, hmm? He confronted her, and tried to force her to terminate the pregnancy. Said he had gone so far as to make an appointment on her behalf. And when she refused, he grabbed her, shook her, causing her to fall against the sink in her bathroom. She could very well have lost our babies, Dr. Jones, if that abruption had been any worse than it was."

"I...I didn't...I...I tried! I tried to say no." Dr. Jones closed her eyes and nervously shook her head, as if trying to expel the memory.

"How much did he pay you to turn over my records?" Rose asked quietly, hurt evident in her voice.

"He didn't pay me _anything." _The woman nearly growled defensively. "He threatened to ruin me!" She regained her calm composure. "He showed me falsified medical records that allegedly proved me negligent." She rushed through the explanation. "It was a tragic situation...one of my patients died. It was an unfortunate inevitability. Completely unpreventable." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Saxon said he would turn over the fake records to the BMA, have my license revoked and make sure criminal charges were brought against me. I had no choice! Can't you see that?"

"There is _always_ a choice," John challenged arrogantly.

"That is _extremely_ easy for you to say, Mr. Smith," she replied, pompous.

"I've made plenty of wrong choices in my life Dr. Jones, but I've owned up to them. You can still choose to do the right thing. Rose has already filed assault charges against Harold Saxon. Extortion? Intimidation? You coming forward and adding those would certainly bolster her case... put him away for a _long_ time. He's already ruined one woman's life, and she isn't here in this room. She is in prison, and is most likely innocent as well. Now, don't let him ruin your life, Dr. Jones."

With detached precision, Dr. Harriet Jones took out her stethoscope and listened to Rose's heart, lungs, and abdomen. She gently nudged Rose to lean forward so she could examine her back. She audibly gasped when she saw the large bruise which dominated Rose's lumbar region. She touched Rose's shoulder, letting her know it was okay to return to her original reclined position.

"Ms. Tyler, I've seen the ultrasounds and concur with Dr. Morgenstern's assessment. I am prescribing two weeks of bed rest, followed by three weeks of modified activity. Dr. Morgenstern prescribed two, but I want to err on the conservative side. And as for the twins...I knew. Saxon ordered me not to tell you. Said you'd be more...emotional about two fetuses than you would be about one. May I ask one thing?"

Rose nodded, brows furrowed.

"What does that man have against you? Why is he going to all of this trouble? I don't understand."

"I suppose it's because I chose to not let him control me," Rose replied, straightforward.

Her physician closed her eyes, and the woman's shoulders slumped, ashamed, before she spoke again. "I think that you should find another obstetrician, Ms. Tyler. I can give you a recommendation, though I don't know why you would trust anything that I have to say. I wouldn't trust me if I were you," she said softly. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Dr. Jones hastily retreated from the room. The evidence of her quick retreat echoed back into the room from the hallway.

Rose turned over onto her side and hid her face from John as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She stifled a sniff and a sob, but John heard it, and sat on the bed next to her.

"Why? Why is this all happening?"

"I'm so sorry, love..." John stroked her hair.

"And now... your mum too? How much more can we take? Why is she so hateful?" she asked into the pillow. "Your mum... why does she hate me so much?"

"She hates everyone, Rose. She's a bitter, angry woman. She was hurt badly by my Dad and never got over it."

Rose turned onto her back and looked up at him. "You've never talked about your dad, and I've never felt right asking. Do you want to tell me about him?" Rose sniffed the tears away.

"Want to? Not really. But I need to." He laid down next to her on top of the covers, and grabbed her hand, nuzzling into her back as she returned to the more comfortable position on her side. He closed his eyes and spoke quietly.

"My father was... is... a solicitor, and Mother came from a relatively wealthy middle-class family. She went to good schools, got a good education, met Dad and married him, even though he was significantly older than she. He was everything she was told she was supposed to marry: handsome, successful, educated, with lots of promise...

"She stayed home like a good wife, washed his socks, ironed his shirts, made him perfect suppers every night. Donna and I came along after they'd only been married a couple of years. Dad started coming home late more nights than not, and then he started staying at the Club in London on weeknights, and only came home weekends. She never questioned it because the money was consistent, even though they weren't wealthy by any stretch. They were well off, I suppose you'd say. She had lots of nice clothes, they had a nice home, she was popular amongst the garden club set...

"One day he came home in the middle of the day. Donna and I were five, and it was really hot...right in the middle of summer. Mother had set up the sprinkler in the garden, and we were splashing around in it. Dad went inside without even saying hello to us. He came out about half an hour later carrying a suitcase. He drove away, and Mother just stood on the steps and watched him leave..."

"He left your mum and you and Donna? Just like that? Did he ever come back?" Rose asked, squeezing his hand and bringing it around front to her chest so that he was embracing her.

"Never to live. He came back for the rest of his clothing one day while we were out. Turns out... he'd been having an affair with a clerk in his office. Young... blonde... pretty... and she was pregnant. He left us for her."

"Like me..." Rose mused.

"Nothing like you, Rose. I am not a married man. I'm not leaving anyone for you. I'm choosing you. Understand?"

"Thanks." She relaxed again in his embrace.

"So we found out that they moved away. He gave up his partnership in the firm where he'd worked since before he was married to Mother, and set up a simple solicitor's practice outside of Blackpool. That's where the girl was from. He didn't contest the divorce, and dutifully sent money, as per their divorce agreement, every month."

"Were they ever happy? Your mum and dad?" Rose asked.

"I don't know. I talked to Granddad about it once a few years back, but all he would say was that his son was tired of trying to meet Sylvia's unattainable expectations. Nothing was ever good enough. She always wanted _more_, and he was tired. I think he met this girl who saw him for who he was... and he chose a simpler life."

"So when Donna married a solicitor, and worked in a solicitor's office, and then you married Renee', also a solicitor, do you think maybe she thought you were honoring your Dad somehow? Do you think she holds that against you?"

Rose could feel John stiffen his body behind her. "You may be right. I never thought of that, to be honest."

"And now, she sees you getting me pregnant," she said quietly, "someone who probably reminds her of the one your dad left her for... That's got to hurt, John."

"I'm sure it does."

"I can't imagine going through life never being happy, always letting yourself be disappointed. I feel sorry for her. I shouldn't have called her a drama queen."

"But Rose, she has chosen to live in bitterness. Dad did wrong, of course. And to be honest, I haven't really forgiven him for it. He always brought a gift by on our birthday, but was never there for Christmas. Always sent a present. He has never called. Never written. Never tried to make any sort of a connection with either me or Donna."

"You don't seem angry though."

"It's been thirty years, Rose. I'd go insane if I held on to that anger and revisited it every single day. Mother could have moved on, but she didn't." He smiled into the back of her head. "And she _is_ a drama queen."

Rose was quiet for a moment, hesitant to ask the question that was burning in her mind, but decided she needed to know. "Why does she still like Renee? She left you for another man, just like your Dad left her. Seems like she should be on your side."

John snuggled closer to Rose. "She sees me as the one who pushed Renee out of the relationship. Says I never did enough to keep Renee in the manner to which she deserved. In other words, I didn't make enough money for Renee, and didn't care about society status and all that rot that she thinks is important."

"You know what I think? I think she feels guilty. She _knows_ she pushed your Dad away, but she doesn't want to own up to it."

John sat up on his side and looked down at Rose. "How'd you get to be so bright for someone so young?"

Rose grinned and wrinkled her nose up at him. John leaned down and kissed her deeper than he probably should have while she was laying in a hospital bed.

"Down there boy," Rose admonished.

"Dr. Morganstern did say we could engage in _pleasurable_ things," he enunciated the word sensually.

"Mmm, I like that idea," she grinned. "But I don't fancy Nurse Rory walking in on us while we're making out like a couple of randy sixteen year olds."

"You saying you're randy?" John waggled his eyebrows.

"Might be." Rose bit her lower lip. "But probably isn't the wisest idea right now, even if we were home. I think I should give this placenta abruption thing a chance to heal before you try to do anything... _pleasurable_ to me." She flushed a bit, but swallowed her sudden shyness. "...maybe when we get home I could...could do pleasurable things to you."

"Rose Tyler, you'd better stop that talk right now, or I'm liable to... well..."

"Yeah, I can feel it." She giggled and wiggled her bum back into him.

"Now you're just being cruel!"

oOo

Rose was released from hospital on Saturday morning. John called and cancelled his standing Saturday night stargazing party with his granddad, but Wilf understood completely, and offered his best wishes to Rose. He promised he'd take a picture for her of a pretty star, and have Donna help him send it via that 'fancy e-mail thing.'

Everyday for the next two weeks, Jackie stayed with Rose while John was at the shop. Donna and Shaun visited dutifully every day bringing humor and encouragement. Sarah Jane came, as did Astrid, with theatre news and gossip. Jack came by with a big box of Belgian chocolate, which he'd picked up on what he had called a "business" trip the day before. He didn't talk about his research on Saxon with Rose, but did discuss his findings with John, Shaun and Donna.

Their home looked like a florist shop. The biggest arrangement of them all was from Henry van Statten. He had been surprisingly gracious, and explained that his wife had suffered a placental abruption, and their son was born premature. He promised that her role would be waiting for her when she was healthy enough to resume, but in the meantime, encouraged her to not worry about the production whatsoever.

Mickey even stopped by with one of his old video game systems, and a stack of video game cartridges, all of which involved either zombies, revolutionaries, mercenaries, lethal aliens or battle hardened soldiers, or a combination thereof. A television had already been hooked up in John and Rose's bedroom, and Mickey had plenty of practice hooking up gaming systems, and within five minutes, the two of them were fighting zombies.

Since Rose couldn't shop for a bridal gown, Jackie brought the bridal world to her via the Internet. Rose would find a gown that she loved, and Jackie would scoff. The meringues that Jackie liked made Rose pretend to gag. They finally came to a compromise, and settled upon a gown that Rose knew would both flatter her increasingly curvaceous figure and please John.

John made the arrangements for the book shop to be closed on their wedding day. A simple bouquet was ordered and delivered to the home. Sarah Jane had agreed, happily now, to serve as Rose's maid of honor. Jack got the day off to serve as John's best man. Outside of family, the only others who would be at the wedding itself were Jack and Sarah Jane. Sylvia sent word through Wilf that she would be attending, for the sake of family unity. Wilf had told John he could hardly wait.

A few additional friends from Rose's circle were invited to the post-wedding brunch at a lovely hotel restaurant. Mickey, Jake and Astrid were given invitations, and at Jackie's suggestion, for the sake of Rose's career, Mr. and Mrs. van Statten were invited as well. John invited a few colleagues from university, and they did accept his invitation.

A small but exquisite wedding cake made by a renown Notting Hill pastry chef was delivered to the restaurant.

Rose stood on her own for more than ten minutes, for the first time in two weeks, and looked at herself in the mirror. Pete was downstairs in the hired car, and Jackie was making final touches to Rose's hair. Jackie opened the florist's box and pulled carefully pulled out the exotic midnight blue orchid hairpiece. She inserted it into Rose's chignon, and embellished the look with a pearl and rhinestone-encrusted comb.

"You look lovely, sweetheart. You knew best, didn't you? That dress suits you perfectly. You woulda looked lost inside of one of those big ball gown things I was trying to force on you."

Rose's gown wasn't a typical wedding dress. Layers of swishy, blush-colored chiffon skimmed the top of her knees, and a chiffon flower, reminiscent of a large, flat orchid, was at the waist, off center. The single shouldered, gathered asymmetrical bodice had reminded Rose of a gown that a mythological Grecian goddess would have worn, and she'd been slightly thrilled to see that the back laced up. She imagined that John would enjoy the act of unlacing. Instead of heels, she wore matching ballet flats that had been hand-embellished with crystals and pearls. She had developed a rather intense fear of falling.

Jackie glanced at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. "Would ya look at the time? We need to be there in half an hour. Shift!"

"Do you have John's ring, Mum?" The white gold ring, like everything else, had been ordered over the telephone.

"In my handbag, dear. Now stop worrying, and move it! You don't wanna be late to your own wedding!"

Jackie helped her daughter down the stairs, and Rose smiled at her mother as they closed up the home. Together, they went down the front steps and stood by the back door of the Bentley that Pete had hired for the day. The driver opened the door with gloved hands and helped Rose into the spacious and luxurious interior.

"Ready?" Pete asked Rose.

"More than..." Rose was more relaxed now than she had been in months. She was on her way to marry John Smith. Her pregnancy complications were under control. Jack Harkness had come up with firm evidence to further implicate Harry Saxon. Her parents were on her side. Her role as Eliza was secure, ready and waiting for her return in three weeks, and she'd been assured her role was hers for as long as she was medically able to continue performing, baby bump and all. The audience loved her and wanted her back.

oOo

Renee Fisher dropped a thin manila envelope into the postbox with a wicked grin. "Just wait until she sees _these_," she thought to herself. She recalled the night that she had persuaded John to photograph _her_ instead of the stars...

* * *

There is a picture of Rose's gown posted to my LiveJournal (who-in-whoville).


	14. Chapter 14

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 14**

**Author's Note: Beware the Oncoming Sugar Shock**

Pete ushered Rose into the lobby of the Soho Garden Hotel near the British Museum in London.

"I don't understand," Rose said, confused as she looked around the casually elegant lobby. "Why are we here? We should be at the registrar's office by now. I thought we were going to be married at the-"

"As if I'd let my only daughter be married in an office, for goodness sake," Jackie said with the flap of a hand as she walked behind Rose and Pete, pushing Tony in his expensive push chair.

Rose's pearl encrusted ballet flats made a soft padding sound against the chestnut colored hardwood flooring. She walked carefully, slowly, and somewhat gingerly past a giant, black cat sculpture. She glanced at it, and fought a laugh, knowing how much John despised cats, as she had discovered during one rather very amusing conversation the prior week.

"This place is gorgeous," she said a bit breathlessly as they made their way toward their destination, deeper within the boutique hotel. Bright and modern paintings adorned the walls, and the furniture was upholstered in bold, colorful patterns. Rose felt like she was in a modern art museum, though there was nothing stuffy or pretentious about the atmosphere. To the contrary, there was evidence of a desire to accommodate children, or adults who had a childlike sense of fun.

"Donna and me have been going a bit crazy keeping this a surprise, what with all the people ringing us and one of us being with you most of the time. The hotel staff has been just wonderful, so last minute and all."

Rose knew they had reached their destination when she saw poster on an easel, the product of a skilled artist. Whimsical, though not silly, caricatures of Rose and John had been sketched on the linen canvas.

"That's for the two of you, too. We'll have it framed for your home. There's a bloke that Donna and Shaun know who's studying art at university. We commissioned it," Jackie said, a bit proudly.

"I can't even... this is... it's just..." Rose put her a hand to her mouth and laughed through tears. "Sorry. I'm hormonal. Everything makes me cry."

"So you're not upset, Rosie?" Pete asked fondly. "Us going behind your back and planning your wedding?"

She shook her head vigorously, unable to speak and then hugged her stepfather, squeezing him hard.

"I'm glad we could do this for you," said Pete, sincere and earnest. "We wanted you and John to have a truly lovely wedding, not that what you and John had planned wouldn't have been brilliant, don't get me wrong, Rose."

"John was in on it?" she asked, shocked.

Jackie smiled softly, but didn't answer her question. "We're gonna leave you alone for a minute. Why don't you sit down and rest for a bit, before the guests arrive."

Jackie and Pete left Rose alone with her thoughts in the drawing room.

Rose looked around the drawing room. It was decorated in a variety of warm woods, though it was not dark. The light colored walls magnified the late morning light that was seeping in through the generously sized floor to ceiling windows. Even though the day was drizzly and dismal, the room was far from dull. The traditionally styled furniture was upholstered in a range of rich pinks highlighted by tasteful chartreuse accents. Carnation pink, mauve, muted magenta and wine were used liberally, and while the effect should have been garish, it was far from it. It was a cheerful, comfortable space with just enough formality to be appropriate for a wedding, yet casual enough so that everyone felt like they were in the lounge of the wealthy, eccentric, artsy aunt that most people wished they had.

Seating for approximately forty people had been arranged. It was certainly an unconventional setup for a wedding, but far more comfortable than those standard white chairs that caterers and hotels normally used for wedding guests. Seating was available in a variety of styles: wingbacks, tufted barrel, a few sofas even - all arranged facing the tall paned windows.

Modern, simple, flower arrangements were on the fireplace mantel, and lit votive candles in crystal holders were scattered randomly throughout the room.

Rose noticed a large harp in the corner. Three music stands were in place, indicating a trio of musicians would be playing for the ceremony.

One particular chair looked supremely comfortable. It was a barrel chair upholstered in tufted, magenta velvet, and was situated next to the fireplace. Rose sank into it and sighed a bit. There was a small ottoman, so she put up her feet. She closed her eyes, and smiled, joyful and content.

She jumped at the feeling of cool hands on the bare skin of her shoulders. She looked down and saw the recognizable, long fingers of her fiancé.

"Sorry I startled you," he said quietly, kneeling down beside her, and then kissing her on her bare shoulder.

"I don't think that's allowed before the wedding," she said looking down at his hand, one eyebrow raised. "You're not even supposed to see me. She smiled coyly, but then kissed the back of John's hand as it rested on her shoulder.

"I asked Pete and Jackie for a moment alone with you," he said, sitting down on the ottoman, next to Rose's legs. She slid them off to give him more room.

Rose leaned forward and fingered his lapel, just below the blue orchid that was pinned there. "I like your new suit. You look very handsome."

"You look beautiful, my Rose." John leaned forward to kiss her, but she dodged to the side, and his lips landed on her cheek.

"I have to draw the line at kissing before the wedding!" she laughed.

"Quite right," he said with a smile, as he reached into his pocket. He produced a small, brown, leather, box and held it out to her. "Open it."

Rose furrowed her brow and looked at him, confused. "What is this?"

"Well you won't know 'til you open it, now will you?" He smiled at her. "Go on..." he said quietly.

Rose complied, slowly opening the hinged lid of the obviously old box. The name of a long-ago closed jewelry shop was printed inside of the lid. Rose drew in a breath at what she saw.

"It belonged to Grandmother Mott. Granddad gave it to me this morning. He wanted you to have it, Rose, to keep it in the family."

"It's beautiful..." she said, breathily.

The setting was outstanding: delicate scrollwork in white gold, reminiscent of a flowering vine, formed the ring. It wasn't too fussy, but it was feminine and old fashioned. The solitary diamond was of high quality, but of a modest size.

Rose removed the ring from the small, silken, cushion and handed it to John. "Please put it on me?" she asked.

John took it from Rose's shaking grasp and she held out her hand. He slid the ring onto her ring finger and kissed her knuckles, soft, slow and gentle, resting his lips there for a moment before looking up into her eyes.

"He didn't offer it to me the first time. I asked him for it, and he said no. He was kind about it, but told me he wasn't ready to give it up quite yet. I knew that wasn't the real reason, but he was too much of a gentleman to come right out and say it."

Rose knew what John was telling her. John's beloved granddad had given Rose his stamp of approval by offering her the engagement ring. Wilf had withheld his blessing from Renee, but was freely giving it to Rose.

"It means the world to me that Granddad wanted you to have this, Rose. He wouldn't have given it to me to give to you if he didn't love you, wholly approve of you, and want you to be a part of the family."

Rose nodded, overwhelmed.

"Your wedding band matches this engagement ring..." he added offhand. "And he told me that-"

Rose pulled his face to hers, and kissed him fiercely. John was shocked for a moment, but it didn't take long for him to fall into the rhythm of the heated kiss.

"Oi! You two! Break it up! There are guests in the lobby!" Donna shouted.

"Sorry Donna," Rose said, blushing.

"You need to fix your lipstick. Skinnyboy there sucked it all off," Donna said, a bit crassly.

Rose blushed and pinched her lips, and Donna laughed at her future sister-in-law. "You better get used to my teasing, Rose. I never let up. Just ask Spaceman there."

John nodded in agreement, tugging his ear.

"Thank you so much, Donna for helping plan all of this. I'm overwhelmed, I really am!" Rose said, changing the subject, but truthful and sincere.

"Oh, it was nothing," Donna said with the flap of her wrist. "No, that's not true. It was a lot of work," she amended. "But it was so worth it. Isn't this place luscious?" Donna said proudly.

"I love it!" Rose gushed, reaching for her handbag to refresh her lipstick and check her makeup.

"Just wait till you see the reception and the cake! I'm dying for a piece. I almost snuck in there and dragged my finger along the frosting. I'd do it too, if I knew no one would notice."

John stood to the side of the chair where Rose was seated, rubbing the back of his neck, ignoring Donna's happy prattling.

"Stop messing with your hair John, it looks decent for once."

He continued to run his fingers through the spiked, brown mop.

"You're not nervous about the wedding are you?" Rose asked, quietly, biting her lip.

"No, not at all. Couldn't be happier. Molto bene'!" He softened, and smiled, but then sighed, as the smile disappeared. "Is Mother coming?" he asked, looking out the window.

"Yes." Donna paused, looking at him with sympathy. "Yes, she is. She promised to behave and to not drag Jackie into another fight. Jackie told me about the hospital, you two. Mum had_ no right_ to treat any of you the way she did." Donna crossed her arms and set her jaw.

"I want to get along with her. I never thought it'd be so hard," Rose said, earnest.

"John Smith, what have you done to your hair!" Jackie Tyler screeched as she came into the room.

"Mum," Rose nagged. "I like it, just the way it is."

"Don't be stupid. You two ain't going to a footie match, this is your wedding day." Jackie dove at him hands first, and tousled it this way and that until it looked perfectly imperfect. "There."

"You really like it that way? All...sticky-uppy? He looks like a hedgehog," Donna said to Rose, incredulous.

"Well that hat you're wearing looks like a spaceship landed on your head," John countered, childishly.

Rose chuckled, shaking her head and leaving the comfortable chair. She turned to Donna and pointed at her. "Donna, John's hair is _perfect_." It was John's turn to be lectured next. "And John, Donna's hat is _gorgeous_."

The siblings battled each other silently, sending smug smiles at each other.

Jackie sucked in a breath. "You need to shift, Rose. The guests will be arriving any minute, and Sarah Jane is waiting for you. Donna, will you show Rose where to go?"

Donna looped her arm through Rose's with sisterly affection and whispered something in her ear. Rose giggled, and looked back at John, and then giggled some more.

"Looks like Donna is telling Rose some more secrets about you, John," Jackie said, affectionately.

John chuckled, and turned to look at the parade of three musicians entering the room.

"Come here, you. I want to talk to you for a minute." Jackie sat on one of the sofas, and patted it, requesting John to join him by her side. "I want you to know that I am thrilled that you are marrying my Rose. You two are good for each other."

"Thank you Jackie," John replied, moved by the woman's acceptance.

The trio quickly tuned their instruments, and then began to play.

"And it ain't just 'cos of the babies, either. If circumstances were different, I'd still want you as my son-in-law."

John did something that three weeks prior, he would have never dreamed of doing: he hugged Jackie Tyler.

oOo

The friends of the bride and groom were seated. Astrid sat between Mickey and Jake. Producer Henry Van Statten, Director Simon Editor-Pegg sat next to their wives. Other members of the cast and crew who were good friends of Rose had been invited. Neighbors from Sylvia's street, and a few of Wilf's friends were present as well.

Donna had called Clive Winters and invited him personally. John had admitted his indiscretion to his sister long before, and had told Donna several times that the loss of his good friend Clive had not been worth any of it. Donna explained what had happened between John and Renee, and the good news of his nuptials to Rose, and Clive had agreed to attend the wedding, hoping to mend fences with his friend.

The trio was playing quiet music. Donna had hired musicians from the production of _My Fair Lady_, who were also classically trained, to play. The candlelight was flickering subtly as steady rain hit the windows, dribbling down. There were a more people present than John and Rose had planned, as their original guest list was very limited. They had wanted to invite more people, but on such short notice, the restaurant they had booked for a bridal luncheon (and Jackie had cancelled) didn't accommodate nearly as many as the private dining room at the Soho Hotel.

The flautist, harpist and violist played a pastorale by Claude Debussy as the ladies of the bridal party were ushered in.

First to enter the room was Sylvia, on the arm of her son-in-law, Shaun. Sylvia was wearing a tailored, but very flattering, navy blue dress trimmed in white at the collar. The cuffs of the three-quarter length sleeves were white as well. Her deep purple and navy blue hat looked lovely atop her freshly bleached and styled hair. To Donna's surprise, Sylvia had asked what color Rose had chosen for the wedding, and purchased a new ensemble to coordinate. She had obviously wanted to make an impression, given the expense to which she had gone. From the tip of her wedding-appropriate hat to the pointy toes of her Pierre Hardy patent leather, navy blue slingbacks, Sylvia had pulled out all the stops.

The mother of the bride was next. Jackie smiled through misty eyes as Jack ushered her to her place. She was wearing a Matthew Williamson sheath dress of navy and black jacquard. Gold, silver and turquoise beads, studs, sequins and faceted semi precious stones embellished the rounded neckline. She wore a disc fascinator trimmed with cobalt blue feathers inserted into her perfectly-coiffed chignon. On her feet were navy blue and gold Roberto Cavalli satin sandals. Jackie had plenty of practice walking in ridiculously high shoes, and these five inch stiletto heels gave her no challenge.

Jack retreated, and returned with Sarah Jane on his left arm, and Donna on his right. Rose had asked Sarah Jane to be her maid of honor the day that she introduced John to her friend. Soon after that, she had asked Donna to also stand up for her, sharing the honor with Sarah Jane. Rose and Donna had become very close since the day they met, and Rose simply could not exclude her from the ceremony.

Sarah Jane's flowing, knee-length gown of navy chiffon skimmed her petite frame beautifully. She wore her hair high on her head, with a few pieces loose at the front. A showy, large orchid in shades of dark blue and deep purple was pinned in her hair, in back. Criss-crossed navy slingback sandals added four inches to her height.

Donna's sleeveless, sheath dress was two shades of deep blue silk satin. A large, flat bow composed of both colors sat off center at her waist. Her stunning ginger hair was left loose, and contrasted perfectly with the deep blue feather and mesh ruffled fascinator sitting properly askew on the side of her head.

A side door opened, and John and Shawn joined Jack at the front of the room next to the officiant. Sarah Jane and Donna stood opposite the men. The trio finished the Debussy Pastorale, and the gentle, familiar strains of _Claire de Lune _by Claude Debussy filled the room, as the harpist played solo.

Rose entered the room on Pete's arm, smiling more brightly than her family had ever seen, radiant in her blush colored silk chiffon wedding dress. John and Rose's eyes met, and John took her hands into his and they faced each other. She and John had met briefly with the registrar ten minutes prior to go over the vows and basic order of the ceremony, but beyond that, she didn't know what to expect next.

After the last notes of the Debussy classic faded, Astrid joined the trio. The musicians began to play a slow, and familiar melody, though it wasn't anything that a listener would associate with these instruments.

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick, and think of you. Caught up in circles confusion is nothing new. Flashback warm nights, almost left behind. Suitcases of memories, time after sometime..._

John winked at Rose, who blushed, ducking her head, somewhat self-conscious at the truth behind the words. He touched her lips and shook his head. _"I love you..." _he mouthed, and her fear faded. John and Rose mouthed the last lines of the songs to each other.

Astrid smiled warmly at the couple as she returned to her seat. Mickey took her place, and stood straight at tall. In a natural, unaffected voice, he recited the well-loved words of William Shakespeare's 116th Sonnet:

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. _

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come:_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

The registrar asked if there were any objections to the union. Sylvia Noble shifted noticeably in her seat, and Jackie Tyler shot sideways daggers at the woman. The future in-law smirked back at Jackie, and set her jaw. Sylvia had no intention of voicing her opinion publicly, as it would embarrass _her_ in front of the family friends that Donna had invited. Her disapproval of the union was known by most, but her sense of propriety won the day.

Declarations were made...

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, John Theodore Smith, may not be joined in matrimony to Rose Marion Tyler."

Vows were said...

"I, Rose Marion, take you, John Theodore, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold you, to honor you, to treasure you, to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in the good times, and in the bad, and to love and cherish you always, forsaking all others. I will be your confidante, encourager and best friend as we journey through life together. I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life."

Promises spoken...

"I, John Theodore, take you, Rose Marion, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold you, to honor you, to treasure you, to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in the good times, and in the bad, and to love and cherish you always, forsaking all others. I will be your protector, your champion and best friend as we journey through life together. I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life."

Rings exchanged...

"I give you this ring, as token and pledge, of my unwavering, never-ending love."

The pronouncement was made and the new husband and wife kissed with surprising restraint. There were jubilant smiles, and very few dry eyes when all was said and done. As there was no formal recessional, the guests simply waited for their chance to congratulate the couple before they were ushered into the sumptuous Picture Room for the sit-down luncheon reception.

Round tables of six were set up for the guests. The centerpieces were six individual live potted orchids, which also served as gifts for the guests to take with them. The head table was at one end of the room, and was graced with more live orchids.

Rose was feeling tired, so she was taken immediately to the head table, and given a refreshing, fruity, concoction to drink, and a plate of healthy snacks.

"I'll be right back, Mrs. Smith," John said, casually kissing her cheek with a smacking sound. John helped make sure that all guests found their seats so that the reception could begin. As promised, he quickly returned to his wife and sat down with a sigh. "Do you know how hard it was to keep this a secret from you?" he said with a chuckle of relief.

"I still can't believe this, John. It's fantastic! I never even knew this hotel existed."

"Just wait 'til you see our bedroom, Rose Tyler," he cooed into her ear. "Bathtub big enough for two... Bed big enough for _four_..."

"Four? Something you haven't told me about yourself?" she asked flirtatiously.

"All the more room to ravish you, my dear," he growled.

During the past two weeks, John and Rose had spent their evenings talking, as she was not permitted to leave bed, except for physical needs. Every night, John would bring her a dinner tray, and together they would eat while they asked question after question, told stories of their childhood, shared their fears hopes, dreams, anxieties and closest held secrets. Their emotional intimacy grew exponentially during the time of Rose's confinement to bed; however, physically, they remained celibate.

Upon returning home from hospital, Rose had her medical records transferred from Dr. Harriet Jones' practice to Dr. Morgenstern's surgery. To Rose's surprise, the kind physician who had treated her in hospital suggested that she be seen by one of his associates, a midwife, for the duration of her pregnancy. Even though Rose had serious complications, Dr. Morgenstern had complete confidence that nurse Joan Redfern would be the right person to care for Rose. From now on, Nurse Redfern would be the one to perform all routine examinations, and barring medical necessity requiring a physician, would be the one assisting Rose with the birth.

To Rose and John's disappointment, Ms. Redfern was a bit more conservative in her treatment plan, and overruled Dr. Morgenstern in a key area of interest to them. The couple could have _no_ intimate contact that would result in any sort of temptation for Rose to escalate their activities. She wanted Rose to remain as motionless as possible so that her uterus could have a chance to heal quickly and completely.

The midwife's strategy paid off, and at the last appointment before the wedding, Rose and John were given the green light to engage in physical intimacy, without restriction, after their wedding.

"No dancing at the reception. Sorry," John said.

"'S'okay. Want to save my strength up to _dance_ with you," Rose replied seductively.

"And I don't suppose you are referring to the Chicken Dance?" he asked.

"You'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you Mr. Smith?" she grinned.

"Tease," he said, accusingly.

"Hardly. Girls who tease don't follow through, and I have every intention of dancing with you. _Repeatedly_." Rose fingered the knot of his midnight blue and deep red tie.

"If the two of you can stop your foreplay for a minute, the reception is about to start," Donna stage whispered as she came up behind the couple and put her arms around them.

"Donna," John said, with a warning tone in his voice.

"You have '_shag me_' written all over your faces, now behave yourselves! You're going to have plenty of time to get it on during your honeymoon."

"Honeymoon? What honeymoon?" Rose asked. They had only planned to spend one night in a hotel.

Donna called Shaun to joined her. "Here. For you." Donna handed Rose a large envelope. She opened it up and inside were two airline tickets to Barcelona. "From Shaun and me. It's your wedding gift. The two of you don't need any stuff, but what you do need is time away while you can before your babies come. You leave tomorrow afternoon. Nothing strenuous though Rose. I cleared everything with your midwife, but you have to promise to take it easy. Beach, massages, laying by the pool, that sort of thing..."

"Donna, you shouldn't have done this," John said earnestly.

"Duh... Lottery winner, remember?" Donna reminded him.

John laughed and shook his head. "Right. I forgot..."

"What about the book shop?" Rose asked.

"I hired someone to watch over it while you're gone. I'll train him myself," Donna replied.

"Who?" asked John, incredulously.

"Me!" Wilf slapped his grandson on the back. "Congratulations, Johnny! Go and have fun with your pretty little wife. Don't you worry for one second about the shop. I sold newspapers for fifty years, remember? I think I can handle a customer well enough."

"You'll be brilliant, Granddad. Thanks!" John stood up and hugged his sister, and shook hands with Shaun.

"Oh, food's here. Better get to my spot," Donna said with delight.

Jack sat down next to Rose, and Sarah Jane took her spot next to John. The family members found their places, thought the seating of the family was not dictated by social custom. Jackie and Donna had decided that Rose and John wouldn't want to rely upon formality. Pete was placed next to Wilf, and Shaun and Donna were split apart, Donna taking a spot between to Sarah Jane and Jackie. Shaun was seated between Pete and Wilf, next to Jack. Though Donna had tried to repeatedly talk her out of it, Jackie insisted that Sylvia be sat next to her. She wanted to get to know the woman better, to smooth things over. Jackie Tyler was determined to do what she could to heal the rift. Wisely, however, she was not going to address the issue at the wedding reception.

"Sylvia, I would like to invite you to tea tomorrow. Pete wants to take Tony to the zoo, and I thought perhaps we could get to know each other a little bit better?" Jackie asked as sweetly as she could.

"I'm just ever so busy..." Sylvia said with blithe indifference.

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy... Maybe we could meet at your favorite spot? Where do you like to go?"

"Why don't we meet at the hotel where you're staying, hmm?" Sylvia was curious about Jackie and Pete's accommodations.

"That's a great idea. They do a really nice tea. What do you say? Three? That'll give us time to send Rose and John off on their honeymoon."

"Honeymoon? Where are they going?" Sylvia asked.

"Barcelona."

"Well how in the world is he going to afford that?" she said, with a disgusted tone in her voice. "Rose already has him jumping through hoops, doesn't she?" Sylvia balled up her white cloth serviette.

"No, mother, it was a wedding gift from me and Shaun, if you have to know," Donna interjected, listening in on the conversation.

"Oh," Sylvia said in a high, affected voice, trying to sound pleased, but obviously not. "How... nice of you two. You must really have taken a shine to the little tr-"

"Now you see here, Sylvia, I will not listen to you insult my daughter anymore! Once was enough, and this time, Pete isn't here to hold me back," Jackie hissed quietly through her teeth, leaning into Sylvia's space. "What the bloody hell is your problem, huh? I've had plenty of time the past two weeks to spend getting to know your son, and he is absolutely and undeniably head over heels in love with my daughter. For some reason you have refused to even give Rose a chance! Have you even sat down with her once? Asked her anything about herself? No!"

"Well how do you think I feel? Watching my son take up with a little blonde trollop who's up the duff with his babies? Getting married without hardly even knowing her! It hurts, Jackie Tyler, it stabs me in the heart! It's like watching my family dissolve right before my eyes all over again!"

Jackie opened her mouth to speak, but Donna gently laid her hand on Jackie's arm, stilling her.

"I've done my social duty, attended the wedding as I should. I'm going to go home now." Sylvia left without meeting anyone's eyes, though every single pair was on her as she left the reception.

"What did she mean all over again, Donna?" Jackie asked, emotionally.

"I... I don't want to talk about it. Not here. Can I tell you another time?" Donna implored.

"Of course, sweetheart!" Jackie hugged the usually fiery woman.

Rose stroked the back of John's hand. "I married you, not your mum. Now let's forget about it, and enjoy our day. We only get one wedding day, you know."

John shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Wouldn't be a Noble family event without Mother marching off in a huff. It's tradition."

John caught Donna's attention, picked up his glass of champagne and mock-toasted his mother. Donna copied his salut, and together they downed their glasses. It was just one more family event that Sylvia Noble had left her own personal mark upon. It probably wouldn't be the last, either.

Happily, all who were upset by Sylvia's tantrum moved past the unhappy moment, and continued to celebrate. The food was delicious, an eclectic mix of breakfast and lunch items. As the original wedding cake order could not be altered, and it was far too small to feed the now larger guest list, each guest was given an individual, petite square cake, each uniquely iced, but complimenting the original wedding cake.

The guests were enjoying themselves immensely, and few had left. Rose propped her heavy head onto her hands and yawned widely.

"You alright?" John asked attentively.

"I'm so sorry, John. I can hardly keep my eyes open. The anti-nausea medication makes me so drowsy. I'm surprised I lasted this long." I think I need to head upstairs and lie down."

John stood up and tapped his water goblet with a spoon. "Everyone, one moment, everyone. Rose and I want to thank you all for coming. Feel free to hang around in here, or head on into the screening room. We've arranged for a double feature of _Pygmalion_ and _My Fair Lady_. There are little nibbles, drinks and of course, popcorn and leftover cake."

It took a few more minutes to finally escape the reception.

"Come one then, let's get you upstairs so you can rest." The lift was not far down the corridor, and soon they were outside of their room. John produced the keycard and unlocked the electronic door.

Before Rose could step one foot forward, he had scooped her into his arms. She squealed quietly at the surprise.

"You really think I wouldn't carry you into our bridal chamber on our wedding night?"

"I hoped you would," she replied quietly. "Just didn't know if you would remember to."

He carried her into the room, shutting the door with his foot. She slid out of his arms, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

"Hello..." they said to each other at the same time, and then laughed quietly at the serendipity.

"I'm suddenly feeling better..." Rose said in a whisper soft voice.

"You're exhausted..." John countered, concern written on his face.

With surprising vigor, Rose pulled John into a toe-curling snog.

When she finally came up for air, he stared at her, utterly surprised, hair ruffled from her roaming hands. "Rose...you really shouldn't push yourself too hard..." he said, obviously still worried.

"Do I need to remind you that I am an _actress_ by trade?" She sat on the end of the four posted bed, and then leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the tapestry canopy over the bed. "How else were we going to get away? No one wanted to leave."

"You wicked girl," John said with a wolfish grin, suddenly realizing her scheme.

"I don't think I've _ever_ seen such a beautiful bed." She seductively fingered her collarbone. "I want you John, I'm tired of waiting. Take me to bed."

She took the flower out of her hair, and released the comb holding it up in the chignon. Her honey colored hair fell to her shoulders. Rose got off of the bed, and pulled her hair to the side over her shoulder. "Undo me?" she asked, turning away from him.

"Complicated dress you have here," John replied looking at the lacing that kept the bodice closed. He tugged on one of the tails of the silk cording, and Rose felt the dress loosen from her torso. He pulled the strings from the eyelets until it was gaping open in back.

Rose held the dress in place, close to her chest and turned around to face him again. She motioned to the single shoulder strap with her head, and John slipped his fingers under, easing it off of her shoulder. The gossamer soft gown slid off her body and pooled at her feet. Her bridal lingerie left little to the imagination, and stoked all sorts of fantasies in John's mind. She wore a lacy, blush-colored strapless bra that pushed up her swollen breasts enticingly. Matching lace cheekie pants were rather demure in front, covering her; but in back, they exposed the lower half of her buttocks, offering a glimpse of the pleasure they obscured from John. Thigh-high sheer stockings attached to a blush-colored garter belt that encircled her waist.

John stared, swallowed hard and traced his fingertip along the swell of her breasts before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soft, pliant lips.

"I'm overdressed," he said huskily into her ear.

"Don't just stand there, do something about it," she teased him as she stroked his sideburn with a fingertip. "Need help?"

"Oh yes..." he replied with anticipation.

John didn't make a show of undressing; to the contrary, he was hasty, even clumsy as he took off his suit, shirt, tie, shoes and stockings.

Rose laughed when her eyes rested on his pants.

"My lucky pants," he said with a wink as he looked down at his midnight blue boxer briefs, covered with stars. "I was wearing these the day we met."

"You remember the pants you were wearing?"

"Course I do...you took 'em off of me, and that, in itself, made them lucky."

"With one swift movement, she pulled them off of him. "Now they're your _really_ lucky pants."

Rose stripped off her lingerie with haste, and fell onto the bed, hastily kicking off the decorative pillows and bolsters, before settling in between the whisper soft, white sheets.

"We forgot to draw the blinds," Rose laughed. "Hope there aren't any paparazzi out there."

"Naw...Donna made sure that they all thought we were at a different hotel. Sent out a fake press release this morning. Besides, it's so rainy, no one is going to be looking four stories up anyway. They're all under brollies and-"

"No more talking." Rose kissed his words away...

* * *

I don't know that I have replied to ANY of your reviews! ARGHHHH! In-laws were in town, daughter had a bit of a health relapse, and life got very, very complicated. Still writing though because it is THERAPEUTIC. Just because I haven't responded does NOT mean I don't appreciate each and every single one of your comments. I really do mean it.


	15. Chapter 15

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 15**

**Author's Notes: **This chapter is a very hot PG-13/mild R. While it is not explicit, is suggestive. It is their wedding night and honeymoon, after all!

I personally don't believe it warrants a "Mature" rating, however, if you do, please state your case and I will consider a rating change.

* * *

The night of John and Rose's drunken coupling was like a meteorite burning upon atmospheric entry: an exquisite, but momentary, flash of light. While they could barely recall the event itself, they knew they had not come together in an act of love. However, it was the night that their precious babies were conceived, and they now cherished that night, even if they had no concrete memories.

If the first time was a shooting star, then this night, their wedding night was the creation of a supernova: explosive, beautiful, and permanent.

oOo

The only sounds in the room were the rain splattering on the windowpane, the gentle rustle of bodies undulating under the sheets, and the wet sound of lips meeting and parting as John and Rose settled deeper into the canopied bed. They lay facing each other, side by side, melting together, his hard planes aligning perfectly with her soft curves.

For a few moments, they simply pressed and released their lips. Their movements were slow and methodical, their kisses, petal soft. His light, skimming touches to her face were the perfect foil to her kneading hands grasping at his firm, muscular back and buttocks.

Desire built quickly, and Rose parted her lips, inviting John to abandon his sweet affections for more carnal pursuits.

"I wanna go slow. What's your hurry?" John said huskily into her mouth.

"Been waiting too long," Rose countered before kissing his chest, hoping to escalate the intensity.

"I said I _want _to go slow," he said as she flicked her tongue across a particularly sensitive spot on his chest. "But you're...making it...difficult, Rose."

"Good," she said smugly, as she kissed further down his belly.

The storm became stronger, and now the rain was beating rhythmically against the windows, providing a natural harmony to the sounds of John discovering what made Rose moan, and what caused John to hiss, "_Yes_," through gritted teeth.

No one had ever taken the time to thoroughly map John's body. Rose made it her goal to find the places that made him grab the sheets and arch into her. There was a spot low on his back that made him shiver. Halfway up his left thigh on the inside her fingertips elicited a groan. When Rose sucked on his right earlobe, John arched his back. When she tenderly kissed the sensitive skin of his appendectomy scar, he flipped her onto her back, and held her hands above her head.

Likewise, the man who had been Rose's first had been selfish, and self-gratifying. He had neither made her feel special nor beautiful; John, however, was neither selfish nor silent. He asked her questions. "Do you like it faster, Love?" "Is that too much?" He wanted to know what was pleasurable, what she enjoyed. "Tell me what you're feeling, I want to know..."

When he discovered that she had never before experienced a certain form of pleasure, he was ecstatic that he would be the first - and only - lover to lavish her in this most intimate of ways. She gasped and then sighed into the sensation of John caressing hidden places, tasting and teasing. After the ringing in Rose's ears subsided, she melted into the sheets, lifted her head and looked at John's self-satisfied grin peering up at her from the foot of the bed.

He moved up her body and then blanketed himself over her. "Ready if you are." John's voice was low and heavy.

Rose looked deep into his dark, shining, eyes and then pulled him into a searing kiss before answering. "Don't wanna wait anymore."

John and Rose Smith then merged body and soul. Both agreed as they held each other in the afterglow that it had been well worth the wait.

oOo

Rose opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the morning light coming through the small gap in the curtains. John was laying on his side, and his head was propped on his hand.

"Hello," she said, sleepily.

"Hi," he said with a smile, before he leaned in and kissed her. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great." Rose snuggled closer to John, draping one of her legs over his, feeling the course hair against the smoothness of her own. "You?"

"Could've slept better." He chuckled. "Don't think I'm creepy, but I stared at you much of the night, hoping you'd wake up, 'cos I couldn't stop thinking about what we finally got around to doing last night. You're _very_ distracting."

Rose blushed and bit her lip. "You could've woken me. I wouldn't have minded," she admitted, running her fingers over the patch of hair on his chest with her fingertips.

"You needed your sleep..._They_ need you to get your rest." John placed his hand on her stomach, moving it in a slow circle. "Any cramping or pain or anything?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing. I feel fantastic, but I'm really hungry. You hungry?" she asked.

John grinned and made a joke about burning off calories. Rose told him what she was craving, he rolled over, and picked up the phone and ordered breakfast be delivered to the room.

"Why don't you go have a nice, long soak in that glorious bathtub. I'll take a shower, and then we can have breakfast when you get out? Room service said it'd be a good half hour."

"'Kay," she replied with a smile. Rose sat up, holding the sheet close to her chest, a bit self-conscious of her bareness. She reached for a midnight blue silk kimono that was draped over the headboard. John had surprised her with the gift, along with a matching chemise, the night before. After she slipped it on, she slid out of bed, and secured the dressing gown.

"You're shy? After what I did to you did last night?" John asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Maybe a little," Rose replied with a shake of her head. "Stupid, innit?" She turned around and faced him, adjusting the opening wider, affording him a peekaboo view of her bare chest, all the way to her navel. "That better, Mr. Smith?"

"Oh yes..." John watched her leave the bedroom, enjoying the view of her not-quite-covered bottom peeking out from under the thin blue fabric.

oOo

The flight to Barcelona was uneventful, although the taxi ride from the airport to their hotel was terrifying. Rose and John had never been so happy to get out of a vehicle in their lives, and fell into fits of nervous giggling as they walked through the doors of the resort hotel.

Donna had picked the destination well, with the idea that John and Rose would not have to leave the property once they arrived. Casual and formal dining, a dance club, spa facilities, pool and direct beach access made it difficult for them to _want_ to leave. Their room was everything a pair of newlyweds would want or need: a generously proportioned bed, bathtub and separate shower, both big enough for two, and a private balcony overlooking the Mediterranean where they could share healthy, gourmet meals delivered to their room.

Much of the time, John was worried that Rose was exerting herself too much, even though the midwife had given Rose the green light for light activity. Subsequently, they only left the hotel property a few times. On one such occasion, a man who wasn't looking where he was going bumped into Rose. She made an "oof" sound, mainly from surprise, but John immediately insisted that they return to the hotel. Rose had countered that she was fine. John promised Rose a full body massage if she agreed to return to the room to rest.

John's long, kneading strokes down her bare back soon became more lingering and sensual than therapeutic.

"This is your idea of resting?" Rose teased, knowing that the impending session of vigorous shagging didn't seem to cause him that much worry.

"I did promise a _full body_ massage," he said into her ear huskily as he knelt over her calves, and kissed down her buttocks.

"Yeah, and if anyone at a spa ever tries to give me a massage like this one, I'll be jumping off the table and remembering my self-defense training," she had said with a contented smile, clearly enjoying his technique.

"Nurse Redfern said it was perfectly acceptable for us to have sex, Rose," John said, overly serious, sounding a little bit like he was giving her a lecture. "She said nothing about being mowed over on the pavement."

All pretense of massage evaporated, and his nimble fingers began to draw out more intense sounds of pleasure from Rose.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"Does it sound like I mind?" Her jaw was slack, lips full, as she made a drawn-out sound of enjoyment.

Once Rose's decidedly sensual massage had satisfied her, she returned the favor, surprising John with a technique she had never tried before.

"You can massage me with that mouth of yours any time, Mrs. Smith," he said, after he had come down from his high.

"Never done that before," she said, dipping her head. Her hair fell across her face, partially obscuring her timidity. "Never wanted to. Sorta seemed..."

"Distasteful?" he suggested.

"Yeah. That's the word. Maybe it was because I was never in love before."

John had no intention of talking with Rose about Renee during their honeymoon, but he couldn't help but remember how she had flat-out refused to orally please him, claiming that the act was demeaned her. Conversely, she had often demanded that he please her.

He abruptly pulled his wife to him, hugging her furiously, needy for her to know just how much he loved her, and how thankful he was for her love. She sank into his embrace, closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his warm, subtly musky skin.

"What's this all about?" Instinctively, Rose knew there was something he was not sharing with her.

"Thank you for loving me." His emotions were close to the surface, but he held them tightly in check. She'd never seen him like this before.

"You made it impossible for me _not_ to love you." She kissed him sweetly as she stroked his face.

oOo

The week they spent in the Catalonian capital had been magical, but now that they were home, they were happy to be back, excited to begin their new life as husband and wife.

John jubilantly kissed Rose on the lips before he unlocked the front door. They stepped inside, avoiding the week's worth of accumulated bills and correspondence that had been pushed through the slot in the blue door. One large manila envelope stood out from the other standard pieces of correspondence. It was addressed to Mrs. Rose Smith.

"Lookee here! Your first mail as Mrs. Smith!" John waved it like an excited child and then shoved his thumb under the flap.

"Oi! Don't open that! That's my first mail with my new last name!" Rose whinged, trying to grab it from him as he played a game of keep-away, waving the envelope above his head, just out of her frustrated reach.

"Say please."

"Please."

"Kiss me."

"I said please, and now you want a kiss, too? You are _so_ demanding."

"I think we both know who the demanding one is in this marriage." John tossed the envelope onto the coffee table, and moved his attentions to a sensitive spot behind Rose's left ear that he had recently discovered made her weak in the knees.

Rose shivered and leaned into John's touch as he dropped open mouthed kisses down her neck.

"Take off your clothes," Rose ordered.

"You're being demanding," he whispered into her modest hint of cleavage, his hair tickling her skin.

"I don't see you complaining too much."

John pulled away and grabbed the hem of her v-neck t-shirt and peeled if off of her body, casting it aside. In turn, Rose worked the buttons of his shirt and shoved it off of his shoulders, exposing his bare torso. While he shed his shirt, she pushed her elastic-waisted skirt to the floor.

"Hurry up!"

"I love it when you're bossy."

"You gonna talk or take off your trousers?" asked Rose eagerly, as she unbuckled her complicated gladiator sandals, further evidence of the hot and sunny climate from which they had just returned.

Wearing only their underthings, they tumbled onto the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs, glad that the curtains were still drawn from their absence. Rose settled on top of John, straddling his hips, and then leaned over and kissed him passionately. John's hands immediately went for her breasts, kneading them over the satin of her bra.

"Ow!" she yelped.

"What?" John sat up from under her. "You alright?" he asked, concerned.

"My boobs are a bit sore," she answered, sheepishly.

"Oh..." he said with a frown. "Does that mean I can't touch them anymore? I don't wanna hurt you."

"No! No...I don't think so anyway. I think it'll pass. Just a new symptom. I noticed last night. I tried sleeping on my stomach and couldn't. Felt like sleeping on two rocks."

"And what lovely rocks they are," he said with an eyebrow waggle.

"Yeah...just one more weird thing happening to my body," she said, with a hint of self-derision. "Gonna need new clothes pretty soon. Do you know I had to wear this expando-waistband skirt today because I couldn't button my skinny jeans? In one week, John!"

"Hey," he said, shaking his head. "Don't talk like that." He placed his open hand on her belly and kissed the swell of her left breast, as gently as possible. "Of course you don't fit in those jeans anymore. Our babies are growing, Rose. That's a good thing. No, that's a _great_ thing!"

"I guess it is, isn't it?" Rose bit her lip and looked down at her chest. "I noticed something else that's growing."

"You felt that, did you?" he bragged.

Rose rolled her eyes and wiggled her hips. "Can't miss it, but I was talking about... these." Rose looked down at her chest and screwed up her face. "You'll like that, I bet."

"Oh yes!" John, again, gently kissed her chest, careful not to apply any pressure. "Why don't you go on your back, I'll be careful not to put any weight on your chest."

"Let's go upstairs. I think our first time here at home should be in our bed."

John took her by the hand, and hastily, they went upstairs and officially inaugurated their bed.

oOo

"There's no return address," Rose called out to John as she looked at the large envelope. "It was postmarked on our wedding day."

"Probably a wedding card or something..." speculated John from the kitchen as he shoved a load of laundry into their washer.

Rose opened it, careful not to tear the contents. Inside was another envelope, and a hand-written letter on fine stationery, marked with heavy perfume.

"_Darling Rose,_

_We have never met, nor do I believe we ever shall. I do feel awkward writing you, but my conscience tells me that I must. I contacted your manager to obtain your telephone number, and tried to reach you, but your number is no longer in service. I would have spoken with you in person, however, I have been away attending to important work related matters. I had so hoped to be in touch with you before you said, "I do" to John Smith, but I am too late._

_I truly regret being forced to communicate the shocking news you are about to read in the form of a letter, but I have no alternative. If you are not alone as you read this letter, I implore you to seek someplace private where you may read my words of warning, and then view the contents of the enclosed envelope._

_Undoubtedly, you have heard all sorts of horrid things about me. I'm known as Renee the monster, Renee the bitch, Renee the woman who was never satisfied, or Renee the adulteress. Please, please, please cast that knowledge aside, and read my words as if they were written by the hand of a dearest friend._

_The man whom you married is a deviant. He has a darkness in him borne out of years of loneliness, anger and bitterness. I learned too late that John was cut from the same cloth as his monstrous father. Sylvia can be very unkind and cutting, but pity her, don't judge her. Her son has broken her heart, just as her husband did so many years ago._

_Yes, I ended up in the arms of another man, breaking my sacred marriage vows, but I had no one else to whom I could turn in my time of need. _

_I have sealed a set of photographs in a separate envelope in case you don't wish to view them. I give you fair warning. They are quite explicit. John forced me to pose for these photographs, even though I begged him repeatedly to not subject me to his dark proclivities. I was afraid for what he would do should I defy him. He has a temper, Rose. Beware his rage._

_I fear for you Rose Tyler-Smith. You are but an innocent girl, not a woman of the world, as am I. If a mature, accomplished woman such as myself can be blinded by a monster such as John Smith, how much more susceptible must you be in your naïveté? You are as a lamb to the slaughter, dear one._

_I don't, for a moment, believe that you seduced John as the tabloids have reported. He is a devious man. He had his way with you and left you all on your own, did he not? I cannot imagine what motivation he has for marrying you, child, but know this: he has some agenda, though I cannot imagine what he would possibly have to gain by saddling himself with a pregnant girl barely out of her teens._

_John Smith is the picture of perfection on the outside, but under the facade lies the power of an oncoming storm. I warn you most earnestly: do not show him this letter or these photographs. His anger is terrifying. Leave Rose! Leave him while you can! Leave before it is too late! I beg you._

_Regretfully,_

_Renee Fisher_

_PS After you view the photos, I ask that you destroy them. I would be devastated if they fell into the wrong hands. Dear, sweet, innocent, Rose. I trust you to not betray my faith in you._

"John!" Rose yelled without thinking twice.

"Yes, my pink and yellow wife?" He casually walked into the lounge with a smile on his face, and dropped onto the sofa next to Rose, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

"The envelope is from Renee."

"Why would Renee send us a wedding card?" John asked, confused.

"Oh, believe me, it's not a wedding card!" Rose said with conviction. "Did you ever take pictures of Renee?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"Sure I did, why? Photography is my hobby. I photograph things..." he paused, "...and people."

"Did you ever ask Renee to let you take... _unusual_ pictures of her?"

John scratched the back of his neck and wrinkled his face. "Unusual?"

"Yeah, like, well, explicit."

"Well... there was this one time when we were first married that... uh... well... you know how newlyweds are. We're newlyweds, right? And we like to... uh... be... well... newlyweddish." He swallowed hard.

"What sort of pictures?" Rose asked, crossing her arms, and raising one eyebrow.

"I think I'd better read this letter before I answer that," he replied nervously.

"John, just tell me," she said impatiently. "Frankly I could care less if you took nude photographs of her. She was your wife, and what you got up to was between you and her." Rose closed her eyes, and then fixed her eyes on his. She laid her hand on his thigh. "But she makes some claims in the letter about you, that frankly, I find very, very hard to believe."

"I didn't take any nude pictures of Renee," he countered, "if that's what's she told you."

She pushed the letter into John's hand, and he wrinkled his nose at the strongly scented paper before quickly skimming. He rolled his eyes a few times, sighed wearily once, and shook his head throughout the reading. When he was finished, he nervously rolled the paper into a tube and slapped it against his hand with a smirk. "What could that woman possibly have to gain from sending you this letter? I have never met someone so vindictive in my entire life!"

"I figured it was something like that. Don't worry John, I _know_ you aren't some closet weirdo."

"Of course I'm weird!" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "But I am not a..." John referred back to the letter. "...a _deviant, _whatever she means by that. And for the record, _she_ asked _me_..." he said quietly, "to take a set of boudoir photographs..." He cleared his throat nervously. "...in lingerie and not much else. They were...provocative, to be sure," he blushed as he spoke, "but nothing more. I promise."

Rose drew in a deep breath and ripped open the second envelope. She pulled out the photos. "Wow. Are those... real?" Her mouth gaped open. Rose pointed in the general direction of the woman's breasts.

John peered sideways. "What? What?! Those are _not_ the pictures I took." He grabbed the top photo from Rose's hand. "These have been 'shopped. Renee was not that... impressive," his voice dropped the word, "...and this woman, whoever she is, is a bit more... voluptuous than Renee. And, she would have never been caught _dead_ in that... lingerie... thing, although the riding crop definitely fits her personality."

Rose sputtered a laugh and then furrowed her brows and cocked her head sideways as she examined one of the raunchier photographs. "She's had her head stuck on someone else's body?"

"Looks that way. Besides, these look like something out of those magazines that Jack used to leave laying around."

"Did ya sneak a peek at those?" Rose elbowed him playfully.

"Sorta hard to avoid..." John blushed.

"So do you know my bra size just by looking?" Rose looked at him, serious. "What size am I?" She couldn't keep up her facade, and pinched her lips to stifle a laugh.

He saw her smile and played along. "This size." John held up his hands and pretended to squeeze.

Rose chuckled and shook her head. "The shop lady in the lingerie department at Henrik's never fitted me with that method."

"I should hope not."

"I don't believe a word of this letter, you know that, right?"

He hesitated a moment before he spoke. "I'll show you the real ones, if you'd like... just to prove myself..."

"John, you don't have to..."

"No, Rose, I want to. Honestly, there is nothing you wouldn't see in a women's magazine. Much more modest, in fact. Please?" John, felt compelled to prove himself innocent. Renee had a way of making him feel _less than_, and he knew he was falling into that trap again, but he needed Rose to know the truth.

"I really don't feel comfortable seeing her..."

"Please?" pled John.

"Yeah, okay, but only because _you_ want me to see them."

John pulled out his laptop, and plugged it in. As usual, it was not charged. "I completely forgot about these, you know. It was such a long time ago." He quickly pulled up a folder, remembering the date, as the incident had happened early in their marriage.

He sighed heavily as he navigated to the specific folder, and quickly created a slideshow. Rose looked at each photo, clearly uncomfortable, but with as much objectivity as she could muster.

"John... these photos... they're beautiful." Rose stared at the tasteful, romantic and artistic product of John's creativity.

She had worn a silvery, silk chemise which skimmed her willowy figure. The woman was reclining, eyes closed, arms above her head, stretched out on rumpled white sheets. Shadow and light dappled her glowing, porcelain skin, which was free of blemishes or scarring.

"The lighting... everything... The black and white is beautiful. Very artistic. And... and Renee, she looks like a model... Her skin is flawless, like porcelain and... and... her hands. She is so graceful." Rose looked down at her own hands and fiddled with her stubby fingernails as she nervously spoke.

"She _was_ a model. While she was in school, she was a fashion model for a while. She definitely knows how to play to the camera," he said quietly. "She's always taken very good care of herself. Most expensive spa treatments, weekly finger and toenail... things... What are those called again?"

"Manicures and pedicures."

"Right. Those things. Maybe you'd like to get a manicure or a pedicure or..."

"I did. In Barcelona at the hotel. You didn't notice," she said, a little bit watery. She pinched her lips, and looked away.

John turned his attention back to his MacBook, highlighted the folder containing the photos, and pressed delete without hesitation. "Done. They're gone."

John put the computer on the coffee table, and pulled Rose into a comforting hug.

"I'll never look like her. I'll always have stretch marks, and my boobs are gonna get huge and then get small and saggy after the babies come, and... and... I've never liked my hands. My fingernails have always been a wreck... and my skin... I've got acne again, John. Spots like fourteen year old! I thought women were supposed to glow when they got pregnant! They're just covered up with makeup! You'll never have a wife who looks as... as... beautiful as Renee did because I got pregnant, and we're married now and..."

Rose jumped up and ran up the stairs, two at a time. John ran his hand down his face in frustration, got up to follow her, but heard the door to the bathroom slam. He did not, however, hear the turn of the lock. The tap on the tub squeaked as Rose turned the faucet to draw a bath. John went into the kitchen, boiled water for tea.

oOo

Rose slowly shed her clothing, avoiding herself in the mirror until she could no longer _not_ look. The only things she could see reflected were imperfections, the changes to her body from the pregnancy. "My body is never gonna be the same again."

Carefully she lowered herself into the steaming bathwater, and sank below the water as far as she could. John knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" Rose said, through sniffles.

"May I come in? I have tea."

"Course."

John balanced the mugs with one hand, and opened the door. Rose was scrunched down deep into the water, almost as if she were trying to hide herself from John's eyes. Her crossed arms covered her chest.

"Herbal tea with chamomile, peppermint and lemon." John held out one of the mugs to her. It was sunny yellow with a black smiley face. He had noticed she had adopted it as her mug of choice soon after moving in.

He folded a towel, fashioning himself a cushion for the hard tile floor, and sat down with his cup in hand, leaning against the wall, next to the bathtub.

"I'm sorry for all of that. Pretty childish of me," she said sheepishly. "Renee was right. I am a child. Look at me, getting jealous of her... I know she's a liar, and a cruel, cruel woman, and I still let her get to me!"

"I let her get to me, too." John said, looking straight ahead. "I showed you those pictures of her because I felt like I _had_ to, love... that you wouldn't believe me otherwise."

"She's trying to get us to distrust each other... to split us up. But why? What does she have to gain?" Rose closed her eyes and let her head hit the back of the tub. "I'm sorry. Again."

"Don't be sorry." He took a sip of his tea, and then looked at her.

"You'll still want me after the babies come, won't you?" she asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear him confirm it.

"Stop hiding yourself from me, Rose. You are beautiful and desirable and completely sexy. You distract me. I'm finding it difficult to think about anything else... I think about your body all... the... time. How we fit perfectly together, how you give yourself to me without question. What you did for me in Barcelona... I never even asked, you just... went down on me and showed me such trust and love. I never wanted to bring Renee into our marriage, but she has inveigled herself right in between us."

"I don't wanna to talk about her." Rose looked up at the small window above the bathtub.

"Neither do I, but we are going to have to at some time."

"Not yet... Please?" Rose asked, turning to look at John.

"I think we should."

"John, she's everything that I am not! She's educated, and accomplished. And beautiful... Her body is perfect."

"No Rose, she is _not_ beautiful. She is cruel and heartless. And when I look at Renee Fisher, you know what I see? A woman who eats people alive, and spits them out, and that is not beautiful," John said firmly, jaw set.

"I've never had such self-doubt before, John! Ever! I've always been confident. Why is this happening now? Now that I have you? And our babies?"

"You've been through so much recently, Rose. I think that it has finally caught up with you. You've given your body rest, but now you need to recover emotionally."

The telephone rang in their bedroom. John got up. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere," he said with a small smile, which she returned.

oOo

"John! How was the honeymoon?" Jack asked. "I'd ask if she's pregnant yet, but that point is moot."

"Ha ha. The honeymoon was gorgeous, thanks."

"I have news. That evidence that the OB provided? That Saxon hurt Rose enough to harm her pregnancy? The police have filed new charges, and have re-opened their investigation on an old case. Lucy."

John firmly set his mouth and nodded, pleased with the news.

"I went to Broadfell and spoke with Harry's ex. Now that she's sober, she remembered some evidence that she had hidden away while still married to him: a ring. He beat her regularly, and one time, he was wearing it. It left a pretty bad scar on her back... very recognizable. I'm still looking for it, but I'm sure we'll find it."

"I need you to look into something for me. Do you think you could add Renee into your investigation on Saxon?" John asked.

"You think she's involved in this?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Yep. Can you come over later tonight?"

"I'll be there after work. Seven okay?"

"Fine. I'll make us dinner. Thanks Jack."

John ran downstairs, opened his MacBook, and retrieved the deleted photos from the trash. They were now evidence.

* * *

Thanks for your patience waiting for this chapter. Our home has been struck with the crud. I've had to squeeze writing in between visits to the pharmacy, doctor, pillow fluffing and temperature taking. Additionally, I have begun working on a Found & Revisited update!

Renee's intention to make Rose believe that John was not trustworthy backfired; however, she unintentionally succeeded in a completely unexpected way. What do you think of Rose's reaction?


	16. Chapter 16

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 16**

* * *

_"John! How was the honeymoon?" Jack asked. "I'd ask if she's pregnant yet, but that point is moot."_

_"Ha ha. The honeymoon was gorgeous, thanks."_

_"I have news. That evidence that the OB provided? That Saxon hurt Rose enough to harm her pregnancy? The police have filed new charges, and have re-opened their investigation on an old case. Lucy."_

_John firmly set his mouth and nodded, pleased with the news._

_"I went to Broadfell and spoke with Harry's ex. Now that she's sober, she remembered some evidence that she had hidden away while still married to him: a ring. He beat her regularly, and one time, he was wearing it. It left a pretty bad scar on her back... very recognizable. I'm still looking for it, but I'm sure we'll find it."_

_"I need you to look into something for me. Do you think you could add Renee into your investigation on Saxon?" John asked._

_"You think she's involved in this?" Jack asked, surprised._

_"Yep. Can you come over later tonight?"_

_"I'll be there after work. Seven okay?"_

_"Fine. I'll make us dinner. Thanks Jack."_

_John ran downstairs, opened his MacBook, and retrieved the deleted photos from the trash. They were now evidence._

John made his way back to his wife, who was relaxing in the bathtub. "Hello," John said quietly as he returned to his spot on the folded towel.

"Hi." Rose opened her eyes, and lifted her hand out of the water, letting the water drip off until it was reasonably dry before she touched his hand, which was resting on the edge of the old, claw footed bathtub.

"I have an idea, and I don't want you to think I'm odd, or doing this just because of _her_." John didn't want to say Renee's name. It felt bitter in his mouth. "I want to photograph you, Rose."

Rose opened her eyes wide, and studied his face. She only saw kindness there, and she relaxed. "What sort of photos?" she asked casually, trying to hide the nervousness in her stomach.

"I want to document the progression of your pregnancy. I want to see how our babies are growing, daily even. You see, I have this idea." John leaned forward, excited to share something that he had obviously been thinking about. "I want to take a picture of you, in the same place, in the same pose, every single day. Same lighting, same everything. And then after the babies are born, I will create a film of sorts, how you grew and they grew. And then after they are born, I want to do the same for them! What do you think?"

Rose was speechless for a moment. "I think it is a brilliant idea!" She sat up, and leaned against the inside edge of the bathtub, smiling brightly. "Tell me more?" Rose asked with anticipation.

"I was thinking you could be looking at yourself in the standing mirror in our bedroom. I want you wearing one of my white shirts, with just a couple of buttons done up top. Your belly would be exposed, of course, and you could wear white knickers. What do you think?" They'd be black and white, and I'd be photographing your reflection in the mirror, so I could see both your back and your face in every picture. Brilliant, huh?" John said with exuberance.

"I really love the idea," she replied softly. "I think it sounds beautiful. You're an artist, I think."

"Of course, they would only be for us, and maybe even...if you were comfortable with it, I could photograph you," he looked down nervously, "with less clothing. For me only, of course. I love the way you look, Rose. And I want to prove to you just how lovely you are. How beautiful...attractive...sexy you are. But most of all, I want you to see how _I_ see you."

"Uh...well," she blew some air through her lips. "Can I think about it?"

"Sure. Of course." He nodded, but was clearly disappointed that she had not immediately agreed.

"John, don't be that way. It's just that...when Harry agreed that I would do that publicity shoot, you know, naked in the flowers, he never even consulted me. He just sprang it on me. I was terrified. I hated every minute of it. But then I felt guilty, because I thought I was being unprofessional. A true actress wouldn't be worried about it, I said to myself."

"No one touched you or looked at you inappropriately, did they?" asked John.

"No! Oh no. It was a closed studio, and the photographer was a woman, and Sarah Jane came with me. She was right there with my dressing gown and she played interference, kept Harry out even."

"If it means anything, those photos are _spectacular_," he said, a growl in her ear.

"You think so?" Rose smiled, capturing her tongue between her teeth.

"Wish we had time, I'd prove to you just how I feel about you in a bed of flowers, but Jack is going to be here in a few minutes. I wanted to go over some things with him, find out more about the Saxon investigation."

"Later?" Rose dappled the surface of the water with her fingertips.

"Oh yes." John planted a searing kiss on her lips while stroking her slick, bare skin, soaking the arms of his shirt in the process.

oOo

"Sorry I'm late, guys," said Jack as he entered their home. "Got a phone call I couldn't ignore right as I was getting up from my desk."

"Hi Jack," Rose gave him a quick hug.

"Mmm, smells good. What did John whip up for dinner?"

"Oh, some Thai thing," Rose answered sleepily, covering her mouth to hide her wide yawn.

"_Some _Thai _thing_? Tired of my cooking already?" John teased.

"Of course not!" Rose said defensively.

"I'm teasing, love," John said kindly, knowing she was feeling a bit unsure of herself after the Renee revelations.

The trio shared happy conversation as they sat around the dining table, enjoying their meal of green curry with chicken and crisp cucumber salad. Rose yawned several times during the meal, but was determined to stay, as she wanted to hear everything that Jack had to share.

"So I went out to Broadfell and visited Lucy Saxon. Beautiful girl... but broken, you know? It's sad. That man really damaged her emotionally. He took away every flicker of self-worth she possessed."

"What did he do to her, Jack?" Rose asked with a worried grimace.

"Other than keeping her drugged so she would be compliant and obedient, he abused her, but did it in such a way that it wasn't noticeable... except for the ring mark."

"Tell Rose what you told me on the phone," said John as he took a sip of his green tea.

"Now that she's recovering from the addiction forced upon her, she is starting to remember... like the ring he used to wear, it left a scar on her back. The scar was never entered into evidence, because Lucy never charged Harry with spousal abuse. She remembers that she hid it in a moment of clarity, but she can't remember where. She thinks it is somewhere in his flat."

"I've never been to his flat," Rose said. "He treats it like it's a secret lair or something." She snickered to herself. "When he first became my manager, right in the very beginning, he bragged constantly about his place. Told me he was going to show me his flat, and only the most special people saw it. I could tell he was coming onto me, and I made it very clear that our relationship was strictly professional. He seemed to take it okay."

"You never mentioned this before, Rose. Do you think he's targeting you because you wouldn't sleep with him?" asked John.

"No, I really don't think so. I didn't mention it because if I mentioned every bloke who propositioned me..." she said with a wry smile.

John half-smiled. "You really should have mentioned it before. This is Saxon," John said. His tone wasn't quite lecturing.

"I suppose I shoulda," she said quietly, looking into her lap, suddenly feeling very young and inexperienced.

"I agree with Rose," said Jack, turning the conversation. "I don't think that he's targeting her because she rejected him. The man is about power. Nothing about him has says sexual predator, even though that is definitely a power thing."

"You don't think so?" asked Rose.

"I gave all of the evidence to my supervisor, and she ran him through our psychological profile software. Now, the program isn't foolproof, but the results are usually pretty damn on target."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel much better." Rose wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

"Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Jack leaned closer to Rose and put a protective arm around her shoulder.

"I hate this." Rose pursed her lips, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a yawn. "If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be dealing with a nutter like Harry Saxon, I wouldn't have believed you."

"One good thing came out of it," John interjected.

"Yeah?" Rose asked, dubious.

"Yep. You wouldn't have been running from the paparazzo, and wouldn't have needed to a place to hide."

"I wouldn'ta met you," she said to John.

"Nope." John smiled a bit smugly and waggled his eyebrows.

Jack picked up his bottle of ale, and lifted it in toast. "To Harry Saxon, the bastard who brought Rose Tyler and John Smith together."

John barked a laugh, and Rose smirked, but couldn't help smiling and finally laughing at Jack's odd toast. Rose yawned again and scrubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Love, go to bed. You're exhausted," John said quietly as he gave Rose's hand a squeeze.

"Thanks for coming Jack. Sorry I'm so sleepy, It's this anti-nausea medication. I have two choices: drowsy or nauseated."

"I'd choose drowsy, too," Jack said with a smile. "Good night, sweetheart."

John stood to halt Rose as she began to clear the table. "I'll be right back Jack. I just want to make sure she makes it up the stairs safely."

"I'm okay to go up the stairs by myself now, John."

"Of course you are, but I want to tuck you in," John said quietly, though the sweet comment wasn't lost on Jack.

After her pre-bed rituals were complete, John made sure that Rose was comfortable and kissed her sweetly goodnight before turning out the bedside lamp.

"Wake me up when you come to bed?" Rose asked.

He smiled, but didn't answer. If she was sleeping soundly, the last thing she needed was to be awakened. Rose needed her rest.

"I love you," she called to him as he left the room.

"And I, you," John replied through the half-open door. He closed it gently and Rose listened to his footsteps on the stairwell, as he returned to Jack in the lounge.

Rose sighed contentedly as she turned onto her side, and drifted off to sleep.

oOo

She wasn't sure how long it had been when she found herself wide awake, and slightly nauseated. John's place in bed was still vacant, and she realized that she heard voices downstairs. Jack was still here. She flipped on the bedside lamp and the old fashioned two-bell alarm clock indicated that it was eleven thirty. She slipped on her fluffy pink dressing gown, and made her way downstairs to take her Phenergan tablet, to stave off the mild nausea which could mount very quickly into feeling horrid.

Carefully, Rose made her way down the stairs, and peeked around the corner on her way to the kitchen. John and Jack's backs were to her, and the way the home was laid out, they would not be able to see her as she walked past the open door.

"Did she really think you'd forget what she looked like? The woman in those pictures," he pointed to the stack of photos that Renee had sent, which were laying on the coffee table, "is obviously not Renee! And I don't just mean the difference in breast size, because that can be changed. But you can't change basic body, like the length of a thigh, or hip shape."

Rose knew that they were talking about the case, and it didn't particularly bother her that they were scrutinizing the ridiculous photographs that Renee had tried to pass off as herself. She went about her task of taking her medication and went to return to bed.

"I showed Rose photos that I took of Renee when we were first married. They were... private."

"You took nude pictures of Renee?" asked Jack.

Rose steps halted as she heard him ask her husband. She didn't want to eavesdrop, but she was curious how the conversation was going to progress.

"She was wearing lingerie," John answered, nervously.

"Renee is a beautiful woman John, I don't blame you for wanting to have photos of her."

"It was when we were first married, and, well, she pushed me into it. You remember how she was. She could ask the King of the Penguins to try to fly, and he would." John rubbed his neck nervously.

"What did Rose think about the pictures? The ones you took of Renee?" Jack asked.

John sighed. "Well, she said they were beautiful... and artistic... and then... then she sort of fell apart and said she'd never be able to measure up to how beautiful Renee was now that she's pregnant-"

"She doesn't think she measures up to Renee Fisher? She's crazy. Rose is gorgeous. Pregnant or not."

"I know that, and you know that, but right now, she doesn't believe it. She said it was hormones, which is possible, but I think she truly doesn't believe it. It kills me, too... that... that... _person,"_ John said with venom as he pointed at the photos on the table, "could plant any doubt in my Rose's mind of how beautiful she is."

"Thank you John..." Rose emerged from the shadows, making her presence known.

"Rose...I...I didn't know you were there. We were just..." John's voice trailed off and he swallowed hard as he closed his laptop. "We were going over the...the case and I had to show Jack the photographs and letter that Renee sent and...What are you doing up? I thought you were fast asleep."

"I woke up sort of nauseated and needed my medicine. I'll be fine in a mo. So what do you think Jack? Will this help our case?"

"Can't hurt, Rosie. Now what's this I hear about you thinking you aren't as beautiful as John's ex? From where I'm sitting, I see someone much, much more beautiful, Mrs. Smith, and if this idiot hadn't snatched you up, I'd be right there. You just remember that, alright?"

Rose blushed, nodded and then grinned.

"Believe me, you wouldn't be the stage star, former pop star and teen heartthrob over in the States if you weren't, or did you forget all of that?"

"I didn't forget." Rose said hesitantly, picking her fingernails nervously. "Not exactly."

"Well _don't_ forget it," said Jack, mockingly stern. "I think I'd better be off. I have an early morning of code cracking and bad guy chasing... and paperwork." He stood up, and hugged Rose, and then kissed her on the lips with more than simple, friendly affection, but not quite passion.

"John, go show this gorgeous wife of yours just how much you adore her. I'll let myself out." Jack left without further ado.

John waggled his eyebrows at Rose, who rolled her eyes but extended her hand to claim his.

"Is Jack always so forward?" Rose asked.

"Jack is... very open with his affections. And he doesn't lie, not about matters of the heart, at least. I think, if you're up to it that is, that I'm going to take his advice." John advanced closer to Rose and nuzzled her neck, kissing her behind the ear.

"Phenergan is a miracle drug, but it does make me drowsy, so if you are planning on seducing me Mr. Smith, you better make it quick, or else I might fall asleep on 'ya."

"_On_ me? You want to be the one to drive tonight, eh'?" he asked saucily.

"Might do..."

John and Rose ended the day, an intimate tangle of arms and legs. They drifted off to sleep in the same position in which they had quietly and tenderly had sex: face to face, neither of them above or below.

Rose closed her eyes with a smile on her face, sure in the knowledge that John, indeed, believed she was the most wondrous creature in the universe.

John, as well, succumbed to rest knowing that the most physically beautiful woman in the world would be eclipsed by the beauty of a woman who loved, trusted and believed in a man unconditionally, and he knew that Rose was that woman.

oOo

Harold Saxon sat in the dim light of his luxurious lounge. The curtains were drawn to the side, exposing floor to ceiling windows to the midnight sky. Ice cubes floating in scotch clinked against fine crystal of the tumbler he held firmly in hand.

In the past three weeks, his usual sources of information had utterly failed him. Toc LeFan had camped outside of John's home, oddly, the only paparazzo to do so. LeFan had sent out the word that Smith and Tyler had begun living together, but few other photogs showed up. They wouldn't have had much to photograph had they been there, anyway. Rose had only come out but a handful of times in three weeks. When she did come out, she was always accompanied by at least one person, and often more: Rose's mother, John's ginger-headed general of a sister, and/or John himself. She was always comfortably dressed, and looked tired, but as always, pretty. Oddly, she was always physically guided down the steps, as if she feared falling.

Within a week, Harry learned what had happened. Rose's new agent, Donna Noble-Temple, implemented a brilliant strategy, effectively outwitting Harry's shock and awe scheme. Noble-Temple freely gave material to the red tops, submitting official press releases full of juicy news, and photographs that she had hand-picked. The result, which Harry was sure was exactly what Noble-Temple had intended, was a marked decrease in negative interest by the paparazzi in Rose Tyler and John Smith, not that they would have had much chance to snap any photographs of the couple, due to her convalescence.

First there was the official announcement of the engagement, along with an acknowledgement of Rose's pregnancy, and a bit of information about her health.

"_While unexpected, Ms. Tyler and Mr. Smith are thrilled with the prospect of welcoming twins into their family next spring. The couple wishes to thank the staff of Royal Hope Hospital for their kind care and attention during Ms. Tyler's recent hospitalization for pregnancy related complications. Ms. Tyler and Mr. Smith request, in lieu of flowers or cards, well wishers would consider a donation to the Royal Hope Institute for Cancer Research."_

Several charming and highly personal pictures were provided: Rose with very little makeup reading a book in bed, wearing her blue and yellow rubber ducky pyjamas; Rose and her costar Mickey Smith playing a video game; and finally, John cooking a meal for his fiancee'.

Harry subscribed to the various press release services, and as soon as the release had been submitted, he had called Toc in a fury, and sent him to find Dr. Harriet Jones. It hadn't taken LeFan long to discover that the physician had unexpectedly requested a leave of absence, and taken up residence in a stone cottage outside of Stratford upon Avon. She had slammed the door in LeFan's face when he called on her, but not before proudly announcing that she had made a statement to the police on Rose Tyler's behalf.

The same unscrupulous records technician who made the copies of Rose's chart gave Toc the news that Rose's medical charts had been transferred to a new practice after her recent hospital visit; and with further investigation, he discovered that Rose Tyler had been admitted into hospital for uterine abruption. Harry had gone ashen when Toc LeFan told him this particular piece of news. He knew enough to know that physical trauma must have occurred for Rose to have suffered the life-threatening complication. He recalled the incident in Rose's flat. He'd shaken Rose roughly, and then pushed her so that she had fallen hard against the sink.

Harry took two bracing sips of scotch, and pursed his lips against the burn. Soon after the release regarding the engagement and pregnancy, the official wedding announcement had been made.

"_Rose Tyler and John Smith happily announce that they were married in an intimate ceremony earlier this week at an undisclosed location in London. The couple honeymooned briefly in Barcelona and have now returned home. John Smith, PhD owns and operates a specialty book shop in Notting Hill. Next Friday, Rose Tyler-Smith will be resuming her role as Eliza Doolittle in the smash West End musical, "My Fair Lady." Mrs. Tyler-Smith's pregnancy has been declared healthy and stable, and she is thrilled she will be able to return to the stage."_

Not only had Rose Tyler and John Smith married in a lavish ceremony that had been completely missed by the paparazzi, both the usual suspects and those on his own payroll, but Rose Tyler they had stolen away for a weeklong honeymoon in Barcelona, Spain. Only a few photographs had shown up in the tabloids, and those were by fellow tourists who provided them to the press.

Renee' Fisher had informed him that she had sent Rose Tyler a package which would cast doubt upon John Smith's trustworthiness. Harry, however, was tired of relying upon others, and doubted that anything could come between Rose and John. Even he could see something unusual about their relationship, something real and unattainable by most people.

He could feel his strangle hold on Rose Tyler loosening. He hated losing, and that is _exactly_ what was happening. It was time to turn the tide. _My Fair Lady_ was making him plenty of money, but his grand plans for Rose Tyler were now at stake: the big budget movie deal. He had told Rose the truth when he said it was to be a grand costume drama set in Eighteenth Century France, but it wasn't the whole truth. Harold Saxon knew that the film would expose Rose Tyler in a way to which she would never agree; and a character that her new husband John Smith would never let his sweet little Rosie Rose portray...not in the way _this_ woman was to been written.

He had to convince Rose to once again let him represent her before it was too late. He had a financial stake in the film, and he _needed_ Rose Tyler as the star. He would use John as leverage. John Smith was his trump card.

* * *

Thanks for your patients, dear readers!


	17. Chapter 17

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 17**

**Note rating change to M for mature themes.**

Rose felt like her face might crack she was grinning so much. Her cheeks were flushed from the adrenaline of performing, the joy of being back on stage, and the thunderous applause she was receiving from the audience welcoming her back to the production. She curtseyed deeply, as was her custom, then waved farewell, as happy tears threatened to form. The curtain dropped in front of the cast, and the company began to disperse.

The applause didn't cease, and the performers looked to their director, Simon Editor-Pegg for guidance. He nodded and gave the cast a thumbs-up sign, so they reassembled for a second curtain call. The curtain was raised, they bowed again, and it was lowered once more. Still the applause continued. An older man in the fourth row called for an encore, and his vocal demands were joined by other voices in the audience. The production had an encore prepared, of course, but an encore had not been requested in months, so all were giddy with the thought of being able to perform the ridiculously fun and surprising number that few attendees had seen.

Simon pumped his fist victoriously and made the decision to give in to the audience demands. The luxurious blue velvet curtain rose again.

Rose started laughing joyously and waved at the audience, both of her hands high above her head as she moved to her spot. The cast followed suit, and the orchestra began to play a very different version of "I Could Have Danced All Night." It had a mod, 60's feel, and the entire cast was involved. Unlike the traditional musical arrangement, which contrasted the modern staging, this rendition musically matched the wildly exaggerated, mid-60's vibe of the costumes, hair and makeup. Eliza and the cast performed the Jerk, Watusi, Twist, and other joyous dance moves typical to the period while they sang the ubiquitous song to a London rock beat. Eliza's white patent leather go-go boots and white Mary Quant-style shift dress now celebrated the music.

The curtain dropped in finality, and the cast and crew dispersed for good this time. Rose tripped lightly through the maze of people and props backstage until she saw her family waiting for her. Jackie, Pete and John were waiting in the wings.

"Rose, Sweetheart, you were just wonderful!" Jackie lunged at Rose, pulling her daughter into a hug.

"My turn," said Pete fondly, who pulled her into a one-armed hug, and gave her a fond kiss on the nose before handing her a spectacular bouquet of flowers.

"I love them, they're gorgeous!" she gushed genuinely, sniffing the blooms. "Thank you!"

John plucked the bouquet from Rose's hands, and shoved them at Jackie. "You were really brilliant tonight!" He pulled his wife into a shockingly passionate kiss, complete with a dip.

Pete cleared his throat. "Do you two want to be alone?" he asked in good humor.

"Always," John replied unabashedly, keeping his eyes locked on Rose's. He stole one more kiss before releasing her, only to steal her hand into his, unwilling to relinquish full contact.

"I am really ready to get out of this costume. The boots make my feet sweat, and my legs are swelling up." Rose led the way to her small dressing room. Pete and Jackie stood in the doorway, and John took the spare chair inside.

"Care for a late dinner to celebrate?" asked Pete. "I made reservations. Nothing fancy, just a little Italian place close to your home that makes the best brick oven pizza in London."

"Dino's?" asked Rose, her face lighting up, as Sarah Jane pulled her elaborate bobbed wig off of her head and put it on the faceless head stand. Rose peeled her dramatic fake eyelashes off, and placed them in their plastic case. "I love that place. Ever since Mum brought me home that spinach lasagna when I was on bed rest, I've been craving it! John?" she asked, hopeful that he wouldn't be a wet blanket and demand she needed her rest after the exertion of the performance.

John began to hem and haw.

"Oh come on, you know how good I've been about resting. I feel really good tonight!" begged Rose. "Mum and Dad are leaving tomorrow, and-"

"Yeah...why not?" he interrupted. "You can always sleep in. I'll open the shop on my own tomorrow." John squeezed her hand and smiled down at her.

"Donna, Shaun, Wilfred and Jack are already waiting for us at the restaurant. Tony's with the hired nanny. Fantastic girl, Lynda Moss. So sweet and attentive," Jackie gushed. "The service sent her over. Had a fantastic CV..."

"I hate to break this up, but I need to help Rose get out of her costume. Now scoot boys, so I can close the door." Sarah Jane motioned with her hands.

The men left the dressing room, leaving Jackie nattering on to Sarah Jane and Rose about the funny things that Tony had done that day. Sarah Jane removed Rose's wig and dress, and then Rose slipped on a dressing gown, sat in the chair in front of her mirror and removed her heavy stage makeup with a pre-moistened cleansing wipe. Jackie continued to chatter with Sarah Jane, who laughed easily at Jackie's stories about Rose as a child.

"You're coming too, aren't you? To dinner?" Jackie asked Sarah Jane.

"Oh, that's kind, but I think I'll have to pass, unfortunately. I have an early morning."

"Oh, that's too bad," Jackie said with a tongue click. "We're leaving tomorrow for home in California. It's been wonderful meeting you Sarah Jane." Jackie hugged the petite brunette. "Thanks for taking such good care of my girl, especially when she was having a rough time of it, you know...before..."

"You're very welcome. It was my pleasure, Jackie. I know I'll see you again soon enough."

"Bloody right about that! Aliens attacking London couldn't keep me away when those sweet babies arrive!"

Jackie and Sarah Jane left Rose in her dressing room so she could get dressed in private, and joined John and Pete by the stage door. Sarah Jane said her goodbyes to the Tylers, and headed home.

Fifteen minutes later, Rose emerged in a white, gauzy, empire waisted dress. Her hair was arranged in a messy knot at the crown of her head, and she wore very little makeup, as was her habit after a show.

"You didn't put your face back on, Sweetheart?" Jackie asked quietly. "You've got a few spots, don't ya? Don't worry, the acne will go away soon enough."

"Whoever said that pregnancy made you glow and gave you the best skin of your life was _lying_. Spots, Mum! Spots!" complained Rose, pointing at her face. "And my hair...it's like it's a limp rag mop. It's impossible."

Jackie smiled knowingly. "Darlin', you've entered a bit of an awkward stage, that's all. You don't look obviously pregnant yet, but have to wear bigger clothes because you're thick 'round the middle, your hormones are doing weird things to your hair and skin. It's just a phase. It'll pass."

Pete pushed open the stage door, ushering the ladies through first, with John taking up the rear. The group was met with the unexpected flash of cameras and paparazzi. It'd been weeks since the newlyweds had been subjected to the tabloids' interest, and it took both John and Rose by surprise.

Rose offered a friendly smile and waved as Donna had suggested. John slid his arm around Rose's waist and fought hard against his urge to give the photographers a scowl.

Donna believed in keeping calm, offering lovely smiles and friendly waves to the paparazzi instead of shoving the offending photographers aside. She wanted them showing their gorgeous faces, not hiding behind sunglasses, or under hoodies pulled around the face. And above all, no scowling.

Jackie struck a glamorous pose, and blew the small group of photographers a kiss. Pete rolled his eyes at his wife, and opened the door to the hired car. The group tumbled into the vehicle with minimal difficulty, and off they went to the quiet little neighborhood restaurant for supper.

oOo

"Flat Earth Books." John answered the shop telephone flatly.

"Did you see _The Sun_ yet?" It was Donna.

"Oh, right! Of course! I picked up a stack of them on my way to work because you know how much I love _The Sun_," John said with exaggerated cheer, but his annoyance was not masked.

Donna knew that often John exaggerated when he was irritated. "What's got you so grumpy this morning?"

"Who says I'm grumpy. I'm not grumpy. I'm alright. I'm _always_ alright," protested John, unconvincingly. "So what's in _The Sun_ that you felt necessitated a telephone call."

"Rose with you?" asked Donna, concern evident in her voice.

"No." He paused, suddenly nervous. "Should I pull up _The Sun's_ website?"

"You just do that," Donna snarked.

John navigated his way to the usual spot which gave the morning celebrity roundup. "Oh looked there. My wife is on the right-hand column. Well now, that picture is not _too_ bad. It certainly isn't flattering, and I wouldn't include it in our family photo album," John said. "But Rose and I actually laugh at photos of that sort, and try to come up funny with captions like-"

"Did you even read the copy?" interrupted Donna angrily.

John sighed. "Reading," he said dutifully, doing as he was told. "That's not _so_ bad."

Donna sighed. "_You_ aren't they one they're talking about, dumbo!"

John re-read the small blurb under the unflattering photograph of his wife. Her eyes were half open, giving her a slightly intoxicated look, and her acne spots stood out starkly against her fair, makeup free face, enhanced by the unforgiving light of the camera flashes.

_"Rose Tyler-Smith returned to the West End stage last night to thunderous applause and demands for an encore. But after only one performance, is the strain of the stage already wearing on newlywed and up the duff Rosie T? Pregnant Tyler-Smith has obviously put on weight in other places besides her baby belly, and has clearly not been to the salon in a while. Her frumpy, flowery dress looks like it's from Stevie Nicks's closet in 1984 and does nothing to hide her barrel-like figure. Question is, how long will it take before her super fit new hubby starts looking elsewhere?"_

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" Donna asked after a short period of silence.

"What do you want me to say? We both know it's unkind and ridiculous, and _of course_ I don't have a roving eye, and I never will. And she is clearly pregnant, but just isn't one to show off her beautiful baby, correction, _babies_ bump, even though she could and would look beautiful doing so..."

Donna was quiet for a moment. "Do you think it will bother Rose? They haven't been quite this critical before."

"If she read it, probably, but t she stopped reading the redtops a long time ago," John explained.

"Glad to hear that. She has nothing to gain by reading them. You know, that Toc LeFan bloke wasn't with the group of paparazzi last night, was he?" Donna commented.

"I didn't see him, but then again, I wasn't really paying attention," John admitted. "More worried about smiling and waving."

"And you did a wonderful job following instruction, and because you were obedient, you look smashing good in the photo."

"Rose smiled and waved too, Donna," John said defensively. "The paper just picked the one picture that made her look terrible, of course. And you're right, LeFan hasn't been around for a while."

"Don't you find it odd, that? After all he did? Practically stalking the poor girl, and now he just ups and disappears? Right when the story is getting good?" Donna mused.

"It is getting good, isn't it?" John said, proudly. "Hey, Rose is scheduled for an ultrasound next week. Wanna come and see the twins?"

"I'd love to. But you'd better clear it with your wife first, little brother." Donna paused. "John, what's really going on? Why are you testy? You've had your head in the stars since Rose and you got married, and now all of a sudden when things are going great, you seem down again."

John shuffled his feet, and breathed heavily into the phone for a moment. "That obvious, eh?"

"Whenever you say you're _alright_, you are the absolute opposite. So spill it," demanded Donna.

John sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm bored, Donna. Bore-diddy bored, bored."

"What?!" Donna shouted angrily. "You'd better not tell me that you are gonna walk out on that sweet girl of yours!"

"Oh no! No! No! No! No! No! Not with Rose, never with Rose! With this bloody book shop. I want so badly to go back to teaching, but I'm afraid to broach the subject with Rose."

"Because...?"

"Well..." He started to speak, but his voice trailed off. "I don't know, really. I suppose I'm so used to bending to someone else's desires, that I don't know how to ask for what I want."

"Oh John," Donna sighed dramatically. "Rose is not Renee. She, more than most, understands what it means to do what you love." Donna was sympathetic and her voice, soft.

"I don't want her to feel pressured to work longer than she should, either. Teaching doesn't pay much," John said. "It could be difficult for me to support our family on an entry level professor's salary."

"Who says you'd be entry level? You have experience, you're respected, you're brilliant! Have you forgotten that?"

"Well, no..."

"And like that book shop makes much money..." Donna snorted. "John, if you want to teach, talk about it with Rose! Please. What's the worse that could happen? You both decide that it isn't the right time for a change, right? The two of you need to make decisions together, John. You're part of a partnership now. There are two of you in this marriage, and both of you are kind, unselfish and decent people. Don't compare your first marriage with this one, alright?"

John was quiet for a moment. "You're right, Donna. I'll talk it over with Rose. Thanks. You're brilliant." The bell over the door tinkled merrily. "Sorry, I need to go, there's a customer coming in." John rang off and attended to the student who was looking for a book about the flora of Borneo.

oOo

With her eyes still firmly closed, Rose reached for John, but his side of the bed was empty and cool. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw that it was a little after ten o'clock. The sky was bright, and the curtains were rustling lightly in the breeze coming through the slightly open window. The late supper of the night before had really taken it out of her, and by the time they arrived home shortly after midnight, she was so tired that she had fallen into bed without even cleaning her teeth or taking her hair out of its knot.

She stretched her body, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. A package of digestives sat on her bedside table, and she ate two. Rose had found that eating a little bit, even before getting out of bed and going to the toilet, did wonders to minimize the onset of nausea.

After showering and dressing, Rose went downstairs and prepared a healthy breakfast of one scrambled egg, a slice of whole wheat toast and a banana. Tea accompanied the meal, and soon she felt awake and ready to face the day. She needed to shop for clothing, as her most forgiving trousers and skirts were now unwearable. At eighteen weeks, when standing in front of the mirror, she was clearly pregnant with her softly rounded belly and growing breasts. John had been taking daily pictures of her slowly changing physique, and she found she looked forward to the nightly photo session in front of the floor mirror in their bedroom.

Rose had yet to bring up the boudoir photos that John had suggested a few weeks before, but now she was warming up to the idea. A few days before, her libido had come roaring back to life after a short hiatus.

As she took her last sip of tea, Rose decided she would surprise John tonight. After the nightly documentation of her pregnancy, she'd slip away, change into something satin, lacy, and black that showed off her newly enhanced curves.

...and after the photography session, she would remind him that her short (but still far too long) dry spell was indeed over.

oOo

"The bloody photographers were waiting for me when I got to the theater this afternoon," Rose complained. One of her legs was wrapped over his, and her cheek was resting on his bare chest.

John lazily stroked her hair with one hand, and squeezed the soft flesh of her buttocks with the other.

"Did you smile and wave dutifully, just like Donna commanded?" he asked cheerfully.

"Of course. I gave them my toothiest smile, and forced myself to hold my eyes open for an unnaturally long time - so long that they probably thought I was possessed or something. Didn't want another one of those 'is she drunk?' pictures posted like that rotten one this morning."

"You saw that, eh? I didn't think you were paying attention to the tabs anymore," said John.

"Astrid showed me," explained Rose. "They were accurate about one thing, though. You are fantastically fit, my husband, and you are all mine."

John chuckled, and Rose smiled as she felt the vibration of the mirth under her cheek. She adjusted her position so that she could see his face.

"That wasn't the worst picture they've published of us," John said, lifting his head so that he could see her more clearly. "Remember this one?" John relaxed his face so that his eyelids were unattractively slack, and lolled out his tongue.

Rose giggled. "How about the one when I was devouring that banana on my way to rehearsal, and my mouth was wide open like some sort of giant-"

"Speaking of bananas..." he said suggestively, waggling his eyebrows before he pulled her closer and kissed her soundly.

"You brought a banana to bed." Rose said into his mouth before she moved to straddle his lap.

John moved his hands to her hips. "Blimey, you're gorgeous, all curvy and round."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like a beluga whale."

"Hardly."

Again, Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You really don't know do you? Just how arousing it is to see you like this? Knowing I was the one responsible?"

"We're both responsible," she countered, one eyebrow raised.

"It's rather primal and basically human isn't it? A man feeling proud about impregnating his woman?"

"You Tarzan, me Jane?" she grunted.

John growled. "Your breasts are so full and round and it's all I can do to keep my hands and mouth off of them." He flicked her nipples with his fingertips, and then cupped them, weighing their new heaviness. "And that little swell of your belly?" He spread his hands over her stomach. "Those are our children in there Rose..._our children_! Ours!" his voice nearly squeaked in his excitement.

Rose smiled and bit her lip as she watched his eyes practically devouring her body.

John sat up, and crossed his legs behind Rose's back. "And your hips? They're gorgeous and they're mine." He attacked her mouth as he pulled her hips possessively into the evidence of his quickly growing arousal.

Rose welcome his tongue into her mouth, moaning and groaning as their lips sucked and tongues danced round and around in a frenzy. She threw her head back, and John sucked hard on her collarbone, bringing a red bruise to the surface, which he immediately soothed with his tongue.

Rose responded to the gently stinging pain that was supplanted by pleasure with a needy, guttural sound. John repeated the process down her chest until he reached her breasts. His greedy lips latched onto one nipple, as he held it up to his mouth, while his other hand toyed somewhat roughly with the other breast, twisting the dusky nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, while grazing the soft, sensitive underside of the breast with his remaining fingers.

"I need you," Rose begged, as he pulled his lips away from her breast with a pop.

Rose wrapped her arms around him, pulling his body as tightly as she could against herself. Their need to find completion came quickly, and the steady rocking motion turned into bucking and grinding, thrusting and gyrating until they collapsed against each other, panting through their orgasms until the almost painful pleasure subsided.

"Understand now? Just how much I love you like this? Knowing you're the mother of my children?"

"Yeah, I think I'm catching on," she laughed quietly into his shoulder. "Best sex ever."

"You know, while you were uninterested in sex, I decided to do some reading up on sexual intercourse during pregnancy."

"I wasn't _uninterested_, just...uncomfortable there for a while, with all of the barfing. I am so glad that's nearly over."

"So am I, love. I hated seeing you so horribly sick." He stroked her back, and kissed her neck tenderly.

"What did you learn? When you were doing your research?" Rose bit her lip and traced her finger across his abdomen.

"I learned a lot, actually." He pulled away, excited share his findings. "Did you know that your vulva is engorged with an increased amount of blood due to increased hormone production? Therefore, your clitoris and labia are much more sensitive to stimulation."

"Professor Smith, are you are thinking of changing your area of scholarship from astronomy to human sexuality?" asked Rose. "You do have those naughty books in the back of your shop." She traced her fingers through the fine hair of his chest.

"Always craving knowledge, you know me..." he said with an eyebrow waggle. "Thanks for letting me photograph you, love. The pictures are gorgeous, and you looked so amazing - both with your lingerie on _and_ with it off..."

Rose touched his limp penis, and shifted herself, pressing her pelvis against his hip. "I can hardly believe this, but I'm ready for another go. It's like I can't get enough of you." Rose nipped and licked, kissed and sucked, first his neck, and then down his chest, ending right below his navel.

"Oh, so sorry love," he said disappointed, looking down at his limp organ. "It's right and properly dead for the moment. But...there are always _other_ ways."

Rose pouted, but only for a moment, as John proceeded to show Rose just how willing he was to satisfy this new, insatiable need.

oOo

Two weeks passed and the babies grew, as did Rose's belly. The photographic documentation of her pregnancy was fascinating to follow, and Rose and John often found themselves cueing up a slideshow on John's laptop to recall the progress.

"Simon brought _it_ up last night... Before the show." Rose looked out the window, somewhat wistfully at the rain pounding against the kitchen window.

"What's that, love?" John asked somewhat distractedly from behind his morning newspaper.

"How long I will be able to keep it up...the performance schedule. I think he noticed that I was sort of winded after the big ballroom scene last night."

John methodically folded his newspaper and set it next to his bowl of now-soggy of Wheatabix so he could give her his full attention. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "How long do you _want_ to keep going?" He took a sip of coffee from his mug.

Rose fingered the rim of her teacup. The aroma of hot peppermint tea tantalized her nose as she put the cup to her lips. "As long as I can, really. I'm not feeling poorly, not at all, just a bit tired. But I seem to bounce back quickly. I walked two miles on the treadmill this morning, didn't even break a sweat, and I was doing fifteen minute miles."

John smiled enigmatically, her comment about the treadmill reminding him of something he had purchased a while back. "Something is going to be delivered today...a surprise for you."

"Really?" Rose wrinkled her nose endearingly. "Hint?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little one?" she pouted.

"You'll find out soon enough, Rose Tyler, so you'll just have to be patient." John looked up at the clock. "Oh, look at the time. Time to head off to the shop. It's book delivery day."

"I'm coming with you," said Rose as she pushed herself away from the table and pulled down her form-fitting, stretchy black t-shirt before clearing away her dirty breakfast dishes.

"Have Simon or Van Statten hinted about your growing belly? Your looking pregnant on stage being a problem at all?" asked John as he moved his breakfast dishes to the sink.

"Not really. I don't know that they really care, to be honest. I'm not the first stage actress to perform pregnant, you know. I think they're more worried about liability, that I'll hurt myself or develop complications or something."

"Joan Redfern hasn't said anything about that has she?" He leaned against the counter, and drank the last of his coffee.

"I have an appointment on Friday morning. I'll ask her opinion. But I know what she'll say. If I'm not too tired, she'll tell me to keep on working."

John smirked a bit. "She doesn't seem the sympathetic sort, does she?"

Rose frowned. "She's very sympathetic! I like her a lot! It's more like she thinks that women have been doing this for thousands and thousands of years, so why should I wrap myself in cotton wool? She likes us to feel confident and good about being pregnant. Unless there's a problem, there's no reason to consider ourselves sick. Pregnancy is a natural, normal, everyday thing."

"Go out to the fields, thresh some wheat, squat, give birth, finish up the harvest?" he said, a bit crudely.

"Something like that. Can't you see it? I do 'The Rain in Spain,' then dance a bit, run back stage, give birth, come back out and belt out 'Show Me!' You done with your coffee, John?"

"Yep. Oh, would you look at that rain," John said, peering out the window. "Wanna grab a taxi instead of walking?"

"Let's walk. Exercise is good for me and our wee babes." Rose turned to gather her things, but then grabbed John's arm.

"What's wrong? Is something wrong? Does something hurt?" asked John, as he saw the odd look on Rose's face.

"No...not exactly...I felt...something...tickling me." A bright smile grew on her face. "John, that's our babies! One of 'em moved! I felt one of 'em move! Felt like a butterfly wing or a feather on my skin." She stopped, and uttered a watery laugh. "There it goes again!"

"That's brilliant! I'm going to go write it on the baby calendar!" John went to the wall calendar and made the notation on the October 20 square. "Twenty weeks and one day...'Felt...babies...move...'" he wrote with flair, and then drew a little butterfly.

Rose laughed. "It tickles something fierce! They take after you, I bet. They're going to torment me with their long fingers just like you do!"

John wiggled his fingers, and chased his wife until he caught her, and tickled her something fierce until she stopped him a kiss.

* * *

It's good to be back! November was successful, though, and I did "win" Nano. Early next spring, there will be a new adventure story starring Ten II and Rose starting off their lives in Pete's World...on quite the wrong foot.

I should be updating My Fair Rose quite regularly from here on out. Thanks for your patience!


	18. Chapter 18

**My Fair Rose**  
**Chapter 18**

**In this chapter: Reality sets in**

* * *

As had become John and Rose's morning routine, they at the breakfast table, side by side, Rose with her laptop and tea, and John with the London Times and his coffee. John had been unsuccessful trying to dissuade Rose from checking the tabloid sites.

"Did you know that I've become a fast food addict, and that I was seen buying a hypnosis CD at Waterstones to try and cure myself?" said Rose, amused.

"I did not see that," the Doctor replied from behind his morning newspaper, which hid his wry smile.

Rose continued. "And apparently, you have personally instructed all fast food restaurants in the greater London area to not serve me any more chips."

"I had no idea I had so much power and influence!" John said with a beaming smile. "Not to mention I would require the ability to be omnipresent. Oh, wait! I know! I am in possession of a time machine, which allows me to visit every single restaurant in the greater London metropolitan area in the space of a day! Like Father Christmas and his sleigh on Christmas Eve!"

"No wonder I'm so attracted to you," Rose joked back. "You're ridiculously clever!"

"That's me, clever and persuasive."

"And don't forget ridiculous," she joked, bumping him with her shoulder.

The couple laughed over the comments that readers had posted on today's picture of Rose and Astrid sharing a park bench, eating hamburgers and chips. The hamburger was actually an organic, free range turkey burger on a handmade whole grade roll, and the chips had been baked in olive oil, and weren't even potatoes at all. They were sweet potatoes.

"What are you doing?" asked John.

"I joined _The Sun's_ website so I could comment."

He made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "What's your username?"

"BadWolf82." Rose bit her tongue between her teeth as she typed her pithy remark. "There. Wanna see?" Rose turned her laptop towards John.

John barked a laugh and then he read it out loud, aghast. _"I saw Rose Tyler-Smith at her husband's book shop the other day (Flat Earth Books) and she and her husband were **snogging** right there in the shop! For everyone to see! Literally sucking each others faces off, I promise…I'm not lying."_

Soon their laughter subsided, and John's face grew serious. "Rose, love, I need to talk to you about something. It's nothing bad, not really, well, it's good in fact, well, could be good if it happens, which I'm not sure that it will—"

Rose placed a gentle hand on his arm. "What is it?"

John swallowed hard. "I want to go back to teaching."

A bright smile quickly overtook Rose's face. "I think that's fantastic! How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Oh, not too long really." John tugged on his ear, a tic that Rose realized early on in their relationship meant he was nervous. "No, that's not true. Never wanted to leave academia in the first place."

"Have you floated your CV?" she asked.

"Nope. Haven't done anything official about it. But Clive Winters, the Dean of my old department, sent me an email about a week ago. He wanted me to know that there will be a vacancy in January. It would be teaching entry level Astronomy, so it's not very prestigious, but it's an in, and tenure, once given up is difficult to regain."

"Would you be satisfied teaching Astronomy 101 to a bunch of first years?" Rose asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yeah, I think I would, actually," he said with a smile. "Blank slate, they are."

"What about all those eighteen year old girls, and probably some of the blokes too, who are going to fall in love with you?" she teased.

"I am rather foxy, aren't I?" he waggled his eyebrows and flashed his wife a self-satisfied half smile. "You'll just have to wheel in the babies each day at the end of class and remind everyone that I am supremely taken."

"Could…could I…I mean…would you mind if I sat in and…" she asked shyly.

John beamed back at her. "I'd love that."

They both returned to their respective laptop and newspaper, each grinning brightly at the prospect of John's career change.

John carefully refolded his newspaper and laid it on the table. "Renee predicted I would lose the shop within two years."

Rose gave John her full attention, and closed her laptop. "Go on."

"For a while, I was trying to prove to myself that I could make a go of it. And…I was also trying to prove _Renee_ wrong. "

"Are you still trying to impress Renee?" Rose asked, hurt and self-consciousness evident in her voice.

"No…not _impress_ Renee, prove her _wrong_." He was stern, but not unkind. "Those are two very different things, Rose." John turned to Rose and gathered up her smaller hands into his. "But I stopped trying to prove her wrong about the time you came back into my life, Rose Tyler. You have such faith in me, and I have a feeling if I were selling newspapers like Granddad, you would be right there behind me, supporting me in that endeavor."

Rose looked down at their joined hands, and nodded before looking back up at him. "I want you to do what makes you happy, John. I could really care less about money or prestige. I didn't grow up with a whole lot, you know. I've also forced myself to put most of my earnings into savings so that I won't touch it. I'm sort of a tightwad," she laughed.

"I noticed. You know, you really should buy yourself more maternity clothes, love. Not that I don't love seeing you in my shirts," he said with a growl.

"That's just it! I hate the idea of buying something that I'll wear for maybe a month, and then chuck back into the drawer! Besides, I feel very sexy when I am wearing one of your shirts."

"Then keep on wearing them, by all means. But buy yourself some trousers and dresses? Please? And make sure one of them is a cocktail dress."

"A cocktail dress? Why?" asked Rose.

"Because…I've been asked to give a presentation at a fundraiser for the University. It will be a great way to make inroads, and remind them how brilliant I am."

"You are so vain," Rose said, ruffling his hair.

"Oi! Not the hair!" he protested.

"I though you liked it when I messed up your hair," she said with a cheeky, tongue-in-teeth grin. Rose unbuttoned the top button of John's blue shirt and parted the collar.

"Is it hot in here Mrs. Smith? Or is it just some pregnancy hormone thing making you flushed and all pink like that?" John said, leaning forward.

"It's definitely hormonal," she growled. "And I'm definitely hot."

John looked at the clock. "We have twenty minutes before I have to leave for the shop."

"What are doing sitting at the kitchen table then?" she scolded flirtatiously.

John tugged on her hands, and together, they hastened upstairs.

oOo

Performing had been difficult tonight. Rose's ankles were swollen, and zipping up her white patent leather go-go boots had been a struggle. New costumes had been sewn, as her old wardrobe had been let out as far as it would go. Her baby bump was now undeniable.

When John picked her up after the show, he had noticed how haggard she looked, and had quietly spoken to Sarah Jane aside while Rose was in the toilet. He shared his concerns with his old friend, and Sarah Jane concurred. Rose needed to cut back her performance schedule.

Rose lay on her side, as she could no longer lay flat on her back for long periods of time, or else she would get lightheaded from the pressure of the babies pressing on vital nerves and diminishing the flow of blood. Intimacy was now requiring more creativity, but they couple remained undaunted, despite the growing size of her belly.

Rose looked around their bedroom at the growing number of baby items that were lining the walls. The guest room was slowly transforming into a nursery, and they had cleared the room yesterday so that John could paint the walls and ceiling. Of course, the theme was celestially inspired, with hand-painted, astronomically correct constellations dotting the midnight blue ceiling. The walls were a soft butter yellow, and the bedding they had picked out together was dark blue and yellow, though neither masculine nor feminine…just _baby_.

"I'm so excited to use the baby jogger." Rose rested her cheek on John's chest and looked at the jogging pushchair built for two that John had surprised her with four weeks prior. "March seems like a million years away."

"They could come in February you know," John said with a cringe, reminding himself that Rose may not make it all the way to her March 8 due date, as many multiple pregnancies were delivered early, or even prematurely. "You don't mind that I bought it second hand do you?" he asked, self-conscious.

"No, not at all. It's fine. Was brand new anyway, just didn't have a tag on it. Would've been fine if it had been used. I'm thrifty, remember? But I wonder why that couple never used it?" she mused.

"The seller told me that they decided they wanted something more posh."

"_More_ posh?" Rose rolled her eyes. The trip to the local baby gear shop had been eye opening, and a bit daunting. She had left the shop with a few items in hand, but nowhere near the amount that was indicated on the so-called necessary items list that had been thrust at her when she entered the shop.

"That Craigslist website is amazing! Did you know that I find about half of the used books I sell on Craigslist? People getting rid of books! For free! Astounding!" he squeaked. "Who gets rid of books? Can't have too many of them, I say."

Rose smiled, then sobered. "I haven't run in months. Even walking around is making me huff and puff now."

"Well you are twenty-five weeks, three days along, Rose Tyler." John was quiet for a moment, and contemplated just how he would broach the subject, the elephant in the room that had been on his mind the past few days, especially. "Do you think it's time to cut back a bit?"

"Cut back performing?" she asked quietly, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Mmm hmm."

"Probably." Rose almost whispered the word.

John felt something wet on his chest.

"Are you crying, Rose?" John immediately sat up, and gathered her close.

"Yeah. It's just…I'm not ready to leave the show, and I know I don't have to, not yet, but I know the time is coming that I'm just gonna have to. People are starting to notice how hard I'm breathing on stage, and it was even mentioned in the tabs this morning. Said I sounded like Darth Vader, and that the sound guy had better adjust the sensitivity of my microphone or else the audience is gonna start humming Star Wars."

"Those stupid papers can just…sod off!" he said low, but vehement.

Rose giggled, though it was watery. "Sort of funny, the _Star Wars_ joke." She sniffed, and John reached for a tissue from the box on his bedside table.

John obviously didn't agree, and didn't laugh. "Which performances are the most difficult?" he asked, trying to bring logic into the conversation.

Rose withdrew herself from the Doctor's arms. She propped up her pillow against the headboard and sat up. The Doctor followed suit. Their bedroom in the old Notting Hill home was drafty, so they pulled the down duvet up around their chests and huddled together.

"The Saturday and Sunday night performances, probably because both days have matinees."

"What if you were to ask Astrid to take two of those performances? Either both matinees or both of the evenings?" he suggested. It seemed a simple fix in his mind.

She nodded, agreeing to the idea in principle, but her lower lip quivered as emotions again emotions welled up. "I'm sad, John. I'm sad to be leaving the show, and after they come, the twins I mean, I won't be able to perform at all for a while, and…and…I'm just really _disappointed_!" The dam burst.

John was taken aback. Never once had Rose even hinted that having children was a disappointment. She had been thrilled, even if she was a bit terrified, at the prospect ever since they had become officially _them_.

"Rose…I…I didn't know you felt this way. Why didn't you say something before? I'm…gobsmacked." John's mouth hung open.

"How could you not know I'd feel this way! It's only natural! I _love_ performing. My life is never going to be the same again!" she said emotionally.

"So it finally sank in didn't it? I suppose I should have…knew it was too good…to…good to last," he said, profoundly hurt. "I always lose…don't I? Everyone else wins, and I always lose…" He seemed to be speaking to himself, and his voice trailed off melodramatically, as he ran his hand through his hair.

Rose's eyes and mouth popped open in synchronized exasperation. "What'areyou going on about? What have _you_ lost? You ain't lost nothing,_ Doctor Smith_!" she hissed. "Of course I want these babies! I already _love_ them to pieces! They are a part of you and I love you and…" She paused to breathe in and out angrily. "How could you _ever_ think I meant _that_! I've never been more happy about _anything_…_ever!_" Her voice grew in pitch and intensity.

"You mean you're not—"

Rose interrupted him, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. "Just because I want these babies doesn't mean I can't be disappointed that I have to give up my career for a while without any guarantee that I'll ever get it back!" The words rushed out of her mouth in a torrent. "Honestly, John! You can't understand what that's like! You want to switch jobs because you aren't happy at the book shop, and I absolutely understand why, and I support your desire to do that! I do!"

"Rose, I—"

She butted in again. "But the minute I complain about being disappointed that I'm gonna have to give up something that I love for a while to go onto maternity leave, you jump to the conclusion that I don't want to be a mother?" she shrieked as she clenched her fists into tight balls and breathed in and out a few times, trying to calm herself.

"Rose I'm—"

She interrupted him again. "Hear me out! This has nothing to do with the babies. _Nothing_! This has to do with me not being able to perform. What if I lose my voice? It's happened you know, because hormones affect vocal cords. What if I can't sing anymore because my hormones go…crazy after the babies arrive? Or what if I just get so out of practice that I never get my pipes back? What if I can't lose the baby weight, and for good or for bad, you know what the industry is like! They want perfect bodies, John, and I'm not ever going to have the same figure again. And what if…what if they don't want me back? Astrid is so fantastic in the role, what if…what if they decide to give it to her permanently?"

Rose huffed, throwing her head firmly against the headboard with a thud. She crossed her arms angrily, fumed for a few seconds, and then, with a noticeable amount of effort, hauled herself out of bed and waddled to the dresser to pull out a long sleeved, flannel nightgown. John frowned; he despised that nightgown. It was from Jackie, which was enough to put him off of it, but more importantly, it effectively sealed Rose off from his touch. "This room is drafty and cold, and I'm tired, and I am going to sleep now. Good night!" Rose climbed back into bed, turned off her lamp and with as much dramatic flopping as she could muster in her pregnant condition, rolled onto her side, her back facing John, who slumped down under the covers in stunned silence.

oOo

Rose nudged and prodded until her husband finally woke up. It was still dark, and the hour, early.

"John, wake up, please. We need to talk."

"Right now?" he said, grumpily. He looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table and groaned lightly. "Rose, it's 2:24. Can't this wait?"

"Please?" She sat up and pulled the covers up against the chill that had settled into the room.

"Do I have to sit up or can I stay down here?" he asked.

Playfully, Rose ran her cold foot up his bare leg.

"Guess that's my answer," he said.

"No, you don't have to, I was just teasing you. I'm just sitting up because I have heartburn, and if I lie down it's worse," she complained.

"Heartburn now? That's new," he said with a scowl, continuing to stay under the covers, but turning onto his side so that he could face her fully. "Sorry about that. Can I get you a bromo or something?" he asked kindly.

"No, that's alright, it'll pass."

"Why'd you wake me, Rose?" John asked, his voice now serious and flat.

"I…I'm sorry that I hollered at you and went to sleep in a huff without talking things over properly. I shouldn't have done that. It ain't good to go to sleep angry." Rose picked at her fingernails.

"Well, I suppose…I'm sorry that I jumped to such a rotten conclusion. I don't know where that came from, honestly." He shook his head. "I guess…sometimes I just can't believe that I've got you…and children coming…and it seems like life is finally looking up for me. I guess I figured that the jig was up for me, my good luck had run its course."

"You, Dr. Smith, are not allowed to think that way, you understand?" Rose sank back down under the covers and nestled back into him, front to back.

John kissed her neck and rested his head there for a moment, looking off into the darkness of the room.

"I understand. I do. When I left my teaching position, I was not a happy man. I resented the shop, I resented Renee, I resented…everyone. I was angry and surly and mean. Donna was right when she told me that the day you walked into my life, everything changed."

Rose turned in his arms. "I love you John, and we'll work through this together, won't we?"

"Yep." He kissed her tenderly. "Now go to sleep, nurturer of my offspring, you need your rest. But do me a favor?"

"What's that?" she asked, laughing at the offspring remark.

"Never, ever, _never_ wear that atrocious nightgown…_thing_ to bed ever, ever again!"

Rose bit her lip and laughed. "I wore it on purpose," she admitted quietly. Rose sat up, pulled it up and over her head, and tossed it away. "Better?" she asked, resuming her former place nestled into his embrace, bare skin to bare skin.

"Yep. Much better."

Soon they drifted off into restful slumber.

oOo

It took a week for Rose to muster up the courage. She wanted to talk to her friend before she spoke to the director. Astrid was sitting on a beat up chenille sofa in the break room, reading Pygmalion.

"Hey," Rose said casually, one hand absently massaging her belly in small circles.

She sat down next to Astrid and flexed her fingers a few times, and then smoothed out her new new black sweater. "Right. Okay. So here's the thing. I have a proposal. I'm starting to feel a bit tired from the babies, and…well…" Rose's voice trailed off.

Astrid looked up from her book to her friend, and was immediately concerned, given the odd look on Rose's face. She slipped a show programme between the pages of her book to save her place.

Rose cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "I was wondering if you would be willing to take two of the weekend shows, like both matinees or both evening performances." Rose's voice was weak, even though she was resigned to the idea of slowly relinquishing the role.

"Rose, are you alright?" asked Astrid.

"Yeah, I'm fine, well, except for feeling like I'm walking around with a bowling ball in my belly. I'm just tired, really, that's all, just tired, and John and I have decided that it would be best for all concerned if I were to cut back. I knew the day would come, but I'm just not ready for it, I guess…"

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I can tell you're sad about this." Astrid put her arm around Rose and hugged her. "I've noticed you're not quite as quick on your feet as you have been."

Rose frowned, and looked sideways at her understudy. "So just how bad have my performances gotten?" she asked, nervously.

"Not bad at all, Rose, just…a bit labored, I suppose. I think this is a good plan. Which would you rather keep? Matinee or main?" Astrid asked.

"Since I get the main performances during the week, why don't I do the matinees. I have a feeling that you'll be taking more performances over sooner rather than later," Rose said with resignation.

"Rose, you're not…upset that you're having these babies are you?" Astrid asked hesitantly.

"No. Not at all. Not really…I'm…I'm just scared that I won't be able to come back. What if I can't come back Astrid? What if I never come back to the stage?"

"Have you considered the possibility that you won't _want_ to come back?" Astrid was asking a fair question. She meant no malice.

"I don't know. I mean…" Rose shook her head, frustrated. "I haven't even considered that. I don't know what I would do with myself, not acting. I've been an actor for so long now. It's just a part of who I am."

"There are seasons of life, you know. Maybe these babies are ushering in a new era? Maybe you are supposed to take a break for a while? Be a mummy at home?"

Rose sighed. "But does being a mum mean I have to give up my career?"

"You're going to have to figure that one out yourself, Rose, well, you and John together…"

Rose hugged Astrid, and slowly walked off to give the news to the producer.

oOo

"_In local West End news, Rose Tyler-Smith announced yesterday that she is reducing the number of performances per week in which she will be appearing as Eliza Doolittle in the West End smash hit, 'My Fair Lady.' Mrs. Tyler-Smith's manager, Donna Noble-Temple stated that Rose's pregnancy remains healthy, and the reduction in hours is not due to any sort of health crisis. Early in her pregnancy, Mrs. Tyler-Smith was hospitalized for serious pregnancy-related complications which have resolved on their own. Understudy Astrid Peth will be assuming the starring role of Eliza Doolittle in the Saturday and Sunday evening performances of 'My Fair Lady.' Sources close to the production say that the decision was solely her own and that she is very disappointed to be reducing her performance schedule, but she believes the quality of the show, her health and the health of the babies come first. In other entertainment news—"_

Harry Saxon flipped off the radio show, and slammed his fist onto the center console armrest of his vehicle. Rose Tyler leaving the show would probably mean reduced profits, and his investment was at stake. This was the second bit of bad news he had received today. Toc LaFan had already given him the surprising news that he was under investigation for domestic abuse.

He felt backed into a corner, a feeling which he hated — the feeling that his destiny was out of his hands — it made him crazy.

Saxon pulled into the covered car park. Lord Rassilon, his Barrister, was a pompous windbag who just happened to be the best of the best. If anyone could clear his name, it was Rassilon. And if, perchance, the evidence _was_ found, Rassilon could make it go away. Harry doubted that anyone would ever find that ring. It was buried so proverbially deep, hidden so completely, it would take an archeologist to find it. He wished now that he had disposed of it properly, but he simply could not let it go of the ring and destroy it. It meant too much to him. It was his last link to home.

* * *

I know, I know, I said I'd post this over the weekend, but life got in the way. Sorry! I made up for the tardiness in sheer volume.


End file.
